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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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http://www.archive.org/details/fourthreaderOOarnorich 


J.  E.  MllLAIS. 


THE   PRINCES    IN    THE   TOWER.     (Page  220.) 


CALIFORNIA    STATE    SERIES 


A 

FOURTH  READER 

BY    ,  ' 

.^^   '  ARNOLD  AND  GILBERT 


REVISED    BY 

THE    STATE    TEXT-BOOK    COMMITTEE 

AND    APPROVED    BY 

THE    STATE    BOARD    OF    EDUCATION 


SACRAMENTO 
W.   W.  Shannon,  Superintendent  State  Printing 


A 

n1" 


T^> 


M' 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE   STATE  OF  CALIFOKNIA. 


Copyright,  1897,  by 
SILVER,   BURDETT  AND   COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 

EDUCATION  DEPT. 


In  the  compilation  of  this  book  certain  matter  from  "  Step- 
ping Stones  to  Literature,"  a  Fourth  Reader,  by  Sarah 
Louise  Arnold  and  Charles  B.  Gilbert,  has  been  used.  All 
such  matter  is  protected  by  the  copyright  entries  noted  above. 

1  E— 50  M— 1  '11 


PB 


\\J^{ 


PREFACE. 


THESE  Readers  are  intended  to  meet  chiefly  the  need  for  better 
literature  as  reading  matter  in  the  schools.  All  the  material 
used  in  them  is  selected  from  authors  of  standing,  is  carefully  graded, 
and  appears  as  nearly  as  possible  in  its  complete  form.  The  compilers 
believe  that  children  have  been  fed  too  much  upon  fragmentary  selec- 
tions for  the  cultivation  of  good  taste.  It  is  advisable  that  the  works 
of  an  author  be  presented  to  the  young  mind  in  the  form  in  which  they 
came  from  the  master's  hand,  that  they  may  be  seen  in  all  their  bear- 
ings and  settings. 

While  doubtless  much  good  has  come  from  reading  the  brief  selec- 
tions from  standard  authors  found  in  the  ordinary  readers,  they  have 
failed  of  the  prime  purpose  of  inculcating  a  fondness  for  literature  in  its 
completeness  and  a  taste  for  reading  good  books.  It  is  not  improbable 
that  the  too  prevalent  taste  for  scrappy  reading  is  partially  derived  from 
the  character  of  the  reading  books  upon  which  children  have  been  fed. 
Hence  as  many  selections  as  possible  in  these  Readers  are  given  in  full, 
and  it  is  urged  that  teachers  ti-eat  them  as  complete  works  of  literature 
and  see  that  they  are  studied  as  such. 

In  the  Fourth  Reader  the  child  is  given  his  first  distinct  introduction 
to  mythology.  In  the  earlier  books,  fables  and  fairy  stories  have  been 
used,  and  there  has  been  a  little  suggestion  of  mythology;  but  in  the 
Fourth,  myth  and  wonder  —  those  subjects  which  appeal  to  the  child's 
imagination  and  carry  him  out  of  his  limited  environment  into  a  larger 
world  —  are  emphasized.  We  believe  that  this  is  in  accord  with  what- 
ever truth  exists  in  the  culture  epoch  theory  of  education. 

It  also  makes  a  suitable  and  natural  introduction  to  the  historical 
matter  which  appears  later.  The  connection  between  this  matter  and 
that  in  the  lower  books  is  furnished  by  two  fables,  "  The  Fox  and  the 
Cat  "  and  "  The  Fox  and  the  Horse,"  and  by  such  humorous  poems  as 
**  That  Calf"  and  '*  The  Cow  and  the  Ass."  These  lead,  on  the  one 
side,  to  the  Nature  readings  both  in  verse  and  prose ;  on  the  other  side, 
they  lead  directly  to  the  myth,  and  the  myth  introduces  the  child  easily 

ivil8?503 


6  PREFACE. 


and  naturally  to  history,  —  the  Hiawatha  myth,  for  example,  making 
an  excellent  introduction  to  American  history,  and  the  Greek  myth,  to 
ancient  history.  The  selection  from  "  Aladdin  "  belongs  to  that  class 
of  purely  imaginative  literature  which  all  children  read  and  enjoy. 

The  authors  believe  that  if  these  Readers  are  used  wisely,  according 
to  the  plan  suggested,  they  will  not  only,  help  to  make  better  readers 
of  the  children  in  our  schools,  but  will  also  aid  in  a  wise  correlation  of 
studies,  will  cultivate  taste,  stimulate  a  love  of  good  literature,  and, 
through  literature,  bring  within  reach  of  the  children  the  choicest 
treasures   of   the   world. 

The  copyrighted  material  in  this  book  is  used  by  permission  of  and 
by  arrangement  with  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Roberts  Brothers, 
D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons, 
The  Macmillan  Company,  and  Elizabeth  Harrison,  —  to  all  of  whom 
both  the  editor  and  the  publishers  express  their  cordial  thanks  and 
appreciation. 


I  shall  detain  you  no  longer  in  the  demonstration  of 
what  we  should  not  do,  but  straight  conduct  ye  to  a 
hillside,  where  I  will  point  ye  out  the  right  path  of  a 
virtuous  and  noble  education;  laborious,  indeed,  at  the 
£rst  ascent,  but  else  so  smooth,  so  green,  so  full  of 
goodly  prospect  and  melodious  sounds  on  every  side 
that  the  harp  of  Orpheus  was  not  more  charming, 

—Milton. 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  SACRAMENTO. 


Go  forth  under  the  open  sky,  and  list 
To  Nature's  teachings. 

—  Bryant, 


SUGGESTIONS    TO    TEACHERS. 


SUGGESTIONS  TO   TEACHERS. 

THE  purpose  of  this  series  of  books  is  indicated  by  its  name, 
Stepping  Stones  to  Literature.  The  aim  of  the  authors 
was  to  make  the  formalities  of  reading  subordinate  to  its  real  end, 
which  is  the  acquisition  of  thought  from  the  printed  page.  It  is  urged, 
therefore,  that  you  aim  not  first  to  teach  children  how  to  read,  and  then 
incidentally  to  give  them  some  acquaintance  with  good  literature ;  but 
that  you  seek  primarily  and  chiefly  to  acquaint  your  pupils  with  litera- 
ture as  such,  and  secondarily  to  teach  them  the  technique  of  reading. 
You  will  find,  if  you  follow  this  plan,  that  not  only  will  the  first  object 
be  gained,  but  that  the  children  will  learn  the  art  of  reading  much 
better  than  when  the  chief  emphasis  is  placed  upon  this  art. 

In  a  book  composed  of  good  literature,  words  should  be  studied 
only  as  they  occur  in  the  text,  and  as  their  study  is  necessary  to  an 
understanding  of  the  text.  Such  study  is  doubtless  important,  but 
great  care  should  be  taken  to  prevent  its  interference  with  the  real 
object  of  reading,  which  is  acquaintance  with  literature. 

The  study  of  literature  should  not  be  confused  with  the  study  of 
the  biographies  of  authors.  Acquaintance  with  the  lives  and  personal 
traits  of  authors  is  often  interesting,  and  frequently  throws  light  upon 
their  writings,  yet  its  value  is  but  secondary  at  best;  children,  espe- 
cially, should  give  their  chief  attention  to  the  writings  themselves.  Let 
them  read  freely  and  abundantly,  until  they  become  absorbed  in  their 
reading.  Do  not  interrupt  them  too  frequently  with  criticisms.  In 
no  case  spoil  a  reading  lesson  by  introducing  the  study  of  technique 
for  its  own  sake.  Remember  always  that  the  ends  to  be  secured  are 
a  love  for  good  literature  and  the  storing  of  the  mind  with  noble 
ideals. 

While  the  selections  in  this  series  of  Readers  are,  in  so  far  as  possi- 
ble, literary  wholes,  in  many  cases  it  has  been  necessary  to  abbreviate. 
Sometimes  chapters  have  been  taken  out  of  books,  the  chapters  in 
themselves  constituting  complete  productions.  In  all  cases  of  abbre- 
viation, it  is  urged  that  the  attention  of  the  children  be  called  to  the 
books  from  which  the  selections  are  made,  and  that  they  be  advised  to 
read  them  entire.  Lead  the  children  to  the  use  of  the  public  library 
through  their  reading  lessons. 


SUGGESTIONS    TO    TEACHERS.  9 

The  ends  above  set  forth,  included  in  the  term  "the  mastery  of 
books,"  are  of  course  the  real  objects  of  all  reading.  They  are  secured 
by  what  is  known  as  silent  reading,  whereas  the  school  reading  lesson 
consists  in  reading  aloud.  The  object  of  the  latter  is  twofold :  first, 
the  making  plain  to  the  teacher  that  children  are  capable  of  mastering 
books  ;  second,  instruction  in  the  art  of  oral  reading.  While  this  art 
is  not,  as  it  is  often  treated,  of  primary  importance,  but  wholly  sec- 
ondary, it  is  yet  important,  and  should  receive  careful  attention. 

Good  oral  reading  includes  both  intellectual  and  physical  elements. 
The  first  implies  clear  and  sympathetic  comprehension  of  the  subject 
matter,  so  that  the  reader  is  able  to  impart  it  to  others  as  if  it  were 
original  with  himself.  The  second  involves  a  mastery  of  the  various 
physical  organs  used  in  reading.  The  common  advice,  "  Read  as  if  you 
were  talking,"  is  correct  if  the  pupil  talks  correctly,  —  that  is,  it  covers 
the  first  point,  "  sympathetic  knowledge  of  the  subject  matter ; "  but  in 
this  country,  where  the  voices  and  modes  of  speech  are  proverbially  bad, 
it  does  not  cover  the  second. 

First,  tben,  be  sure  that  the  children  understand  what  they  are  read- 
ing. Try  to  secure  their  interest  in  it,  and  then  expect  them  to  read  it 
to  you  as  if  they  were  imparting  fresh  and  valuable  information.  This 
requires  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  text  and  context,  and  the  free 
use  of  the  dictionary  and  other  reference  books.  The  children  should 
read  their  school  reading  lessons  as  they  would  read  any  book  on  any 
occasion,  because  they  are  interested  in  what  the  book  contains. 

Second,  see  to  it  that  the  children  become  masters  of  those  portions 
of  the  body  which  are  used  in  reading,  so  that  when  they  comprehend 
what  they  are  reading,  they  can  impart  it  to  others  in  a  natural, 
pleasing,  and  lucid  manner.  Practically,  the  entire  body  is  used  in 
good  reading.  Specifically,  the  points  to  be  carefully  observed  are 
carriage  or  position  of  the  various  parts  of  the  body,  proper  breathing, 
clear  enunciation,  correct  pronunciation,  and  quality  of  voice. 

1.  Carriage.  The  body  should  be  erect,  so  that  a  vertical  line 
passes  through  the  ears,  the  shoulders,  the  hips,  and  the  heels.  This 
position  should  not  be  stiff,  but  all  the  muscles  should  be  free,  so  that 
the  various  members  can  move  gracefully  and  readily  as  may  be 
required.     To  secure  this  freedom,  calisthenic  exercises  are  useful. 

2.  Breathing.  The  breathing  should  be  deep  rather  than  super- 
ficial. It  is  often  well,  before  a  reading  lesson,  to  have  the  class  stand 
in  correct  position  and  draw  in  through  their  nostrils  —  not  through 
their  mouths  —  as  deep  and  as  full  breaths  as  they  are  capable  of  taking. 
This  exercise  repeated  several  times  will  tend  to  produce  good  breath- 
ing during  the  reading  lesson.  Children  should  be  taught  to  breathe 
through  the  nostrils,  and  to  use  the  diaphragm  and  the  muscles  of  the 


10  SUGGESTIONS    TO    TEACHERS. 

abdomen  in  breathing  even  more  than  those  of  the  chest.  They  should 
be  taught  to  take  in  new  breaths  before  the  supply  of  air  is  exhausted 
to  such  a  degree  as  to  affect  the  voice. 

3.  Enunciation.  Few  children  enunciate  all  sounds  distinctly. 
If  you  watch  children  carefully,  you  will  find  that  some  have  difficulty 
with  vowels,  others  with  consonants.  Special  drill  exercises  should  be 
given  to  classes  to  cover  general  deficiencies,  and  to  individuals  to  meet 
particular  needs. 

4.  Correct  Pronunciation.  This  is  determined  by  the  usage  of 
good  authors.  To  avoid  errors  it  is  necessary  to  consult  frequently 
some  standard  dictionary,  with  which  every  class  room  should  be 
supplied. 

5.  The  Quality  of  the  Voice.  Another  consideration  to  which  it 
is  necessary  to  give  careful  attention  is  the  quality  of  the  voice.  It 
is  said  that  very  few  Americans  have  agreeable  voices.  This  is  a 
serious  national  defect.  No  one  who  has  felt  the  charm  of  a  rich, 
full,  gentle  voice  needs  to  be  told  the  importance  of  training  the  voices 
of  children. 

Special  attention  should  be  given  to  timbre,  pitch,  and  inflection. 
Strive  to  cultivate  in  your  children  full,  rich  voices.  In  reading,  give 
careful  heed  to  appropriateness  of  vocalization,  —  that  is,  see  that  the 
children  u^e  the  proper  quality  of  tone  and  the  right  inflections  to 
express  the  feeling  of  what  they  are  reading.  Good  reading  is  a  beau- 
tiful art,  and  cannot  be  secured  by  obedience  to  technical  laws  merely. 
It  can  only  be  secured  by  constant  watchfulness  and  care  on  the  part 
of  both  pupil  and  teacher. 


You  bear  that  boy  laughing?— you  think  he's  all  fun; 
But  the  angels  laugh,  too,  at  the  good  he  has  done; 
The  children  laugh  loud  as  they  troop  to  bis  call. 
And  the  poor  man  that  knows  him  laughs  loudest  of  all. 

"The  Boys"— Holmes. 


Preliminary  Matter. 


Preface    

Suggestions  to  Teachers 


Page 
5 
8 


Selections  in  Prose  and  Poetry. 


L3330N,  Subject. 

I.    Just  as  Well 

II.    That  Calf 

III.  The  Fox  and  the  Cat      .... 

IV.  The  Fox  and  the  Horse  .... 
V.  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow     . 

VI.     Hiawatha's  Friends 

VII.  Hiawatha's  Departure     .... 

VIH.     Excelsior 

IX.  The  Ants'  Monday  Dinner  .     .     . 

X.  The  Cow  and  the  Ass      .... 

XL  How    Little    Cedric     became    a 

Knight 

XII.  A  Visit  from  Saint  Nicholas    .     . 

XIII.  Language 

XIV.  The  English  Language   .... 
XV.     Printing 

XVI.  The  Planting  of  the  Apple  Tree   . 

XVII.  The  Song  of  the  Sower  .... 

XVIII.  Aladdin  ;  or  the  Wonderful  Lamp 

XIX.     A  Dutch  Lullaby 

XX.     Krinken 


Author. 
Juliana  Horatia  Ewing 


15 


Alice  Cary 22 

J.  and  W.  Grimm   .     . 
J.  and  W.  Grimm  .     , 


25 
27 
29 
32 
39 
44 
46 
Ja7ie  Taijlor 52 


Henry  Wadsiaorth  Lonfjfellow 
Henry  Wadsworth  Lonrifellow 
Henry  Wadsicorth  Longfellow 
Helen  Hunt  Jackson     .     .     . 


Elizabeth  Harrison 
Clement  C.  Moore 


William  Cullen  Bryant 

William  Cullen  Bryant 
"  Arabian  Nights  "  .     . 

Eugene  Field 132 

Eugene  Field 134 


55 
72 
75 
79 
84 
91 
95 
103 


12 


CONTENTS. 


Lesson. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

xxxvir. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

XLI. 

XLII. 

XLIII. 

XLIV. 

XLV. 

XLVI. 

XLVII. 

XLVIII. 

XLIX. 

L. 

LI. 

LII. 


Subject.                                                  Author.  Paqk 

Lullaby  to  the  Fairy  Queen     .     .     .        William  Shakespeare      .  137 

The  History  of  Tip- Top Harriet  Beecher  Stowe    .  139 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson 152 

The  Wind Robert  Louis  Stevenson  .  154 

Night  and  Day Robert  Louis  Stevenson   .  155 

Nest  Eggs Robert  Louis  Stevenson  .  157 

The  Water  Babies ,       Charles  Kingsley    ...  159 

King  Edward  the  Fifth 216 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier 221 

The  Barefoot  Boy John  Greenleaf  Whittier  222 


John  Greenleaf  Whittier    227 
John  Wilson 234 


William  Wordsworth 
Dorothy  Wordsworth 
William  Wordsworth 


241 
246 
249 
254 
255 


The  Brown  Dwarf  of  Riigen 
The  Nest  of  the  Golden  Eagle 
The  Kitten  and  the  Falling  Leaves 
A  Boisterous  Winter  Evening 
Goody  Blake  and  Harry  Gill    .     . 

March William  Wordsworth 

How  the  Leaves  Came  Down  .     .     .      Susan  Coolidge 

Greece  and  the  Greeks 256 

Mount  Olympus  and  its  Inhabitants 259 

Phaethon 267 

Persephone 275 

The  Beginnings  of  Things         279 

The  Quarrel  of  the  Goddesses 283 

The  Trojan  War 286 

The  Death  of  Hector 291 

The  Wooden  Horse 293 

The  Olympian  Games         296 

The  Spartans  and  Leonidas 298 

Tubal  Cain Charles  Mackay     ,     .     .  304 

Athens  and  the  Athenians  . 306 

Demosthenes o     .     .     .  309 

The  Legend  of  Saint  Christopher      Helen  Hunt  Jackson      .  312 


Lexicon 


316 


LIST  OP  AUTHORS. 

Namk.  Selection.  Page 

"Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments"  Aladdin,  or  the  Wonderful  Lamp  103 

Bryant,  William  Cullen The  Planting  of  the  Apple  Tree    .  91 

"               '*               '•          The  Song  of  the  Sower  ....  95 

Gary,  Alice That  Calf 22 

CooLiDGE,  Susan       How  the  Leaves  Came  Down    .     .  255 

EwiNG,  Juliana  Horatia      .....  Just  as  Well      .......  15 

Field,  Eugene     .........    A  Dutch  Lullaby 132 

"            "            ,     .     .     .     Krinken 134 

Grimm,  Jakob  and  Wilhelm     ....    The  Fox  and  the  Cat 25 

"            "                       "             ....  The  Fox  and  the  Horse       ...  27 

Harrison,  Elizabeth       ......  How     Little    Cedric     became    a 

Knight 55 

Jackson,  Helen  Hunt      ....*..  The  Ants'  Monday  Dinner  ...  46 

KiNGSLEY,  Charles      .     .^ The  Water  Babies 159 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth    .     .    Hiawatha's  Friends 32 

"                   "                "                 .     .  Hiawatha's  Departure     ....  39 

'*                   "                "                  .     .     Excelsior 44 

Mackay,  Charles Tubal  Cain 304 

Moore,  Clement  Clarke A  Visit  from  Saint  Nicholas    .     .  72 

Shakespeare,  William Lullaby  to  the  Fair}'  Queen     .     .  137 

Stevenson,   Robert  Louis The  Wind 154 

"                  "            "        Night  and  Day 155 

"                 "            "        Nest  Eggs 157 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher   .....  The  History  of  Tip-Top  ....  139 

Taylor,  Jane .     .     .  The  Cow  and  the  Ass      ....  52 

Thackeray,  William  M King  Canute 312 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf      ....    The  Barefoot  Boy 222 

♦'              '«              "                ....  The  Brown  Dwarf  of  Rugen     .     .  227 

Wilson,  John       The  Nest  of  the  Golden  Eagle       .  234 

Wordsworth,  Dorothy A  Boisterous  Winter  Evening       .  246 

Wordsworth,  William    ......  The  Kitten  and  the  Falling  Leaves  241 

"                       «           Goody  Blake  and  Harry  Gill    .     .  249 

"                       «          March 254 


SAINT    CHRISTOPHER. 

"  The  giant  scarce  could  stand  upright, 

liis  staff  shook  in  his  hand."     (Page  314.) 


^^Pi^4j£iA^^,    : 


A-  roURTlTREADER 


I.     JUST   AS   WELL. 

By  Mrs.  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 

"  T3  E  sure,  my  child,"  said  the  widow  to  her  little 

I  y  daughter,  '^  that  you  always  do  just  as  you 
are  told." 

"  Very  well,  mother." 

'^  Or,  at  any  rate,  do  what  will  do  just  as  well,"  said 
the  small  house-dog  as  he  lay  blinking  at  the  fire.     , 

"You  darling!"  cried  little  Joan;  and  she  sat 
down  on  the  hearth  and  hugged  him.  But  he  got 
up  and  shook  himself,  and  moved  three  turns  nearer 
the  oven  to  be  out  of  the  way ;  for  though  her  arms 
were  soft,  she  had  kept  her  doll  in  them,  and  that 
was  made  of  wood,  which  hurts. 

"  What  a  dear,  kind  house-dog  you  are ! "  said 
little  Joan ;  and  she  mea^nt  what  she  said,  for  it 
does  feel  nice  to  have  the  sharp  edges  of  one's  duty 
a  little  softened  off  for  one. 


16  A   FOURTH    READER. 

He  was  no  particular  kind  of  dog,  but  he  was  very 
smooth  to  stroke,  and  had  a  nice  way  of  blinking 
with  his  eyes  which  it  was  soothing  to  see.  There 
had  been  a  difficulty  about  his  name.  The  name 
of  the  house-dog  before  him  was  Faithful;  and  well 
it  became  him,  as  his  tombstone  testified.^  The  one 
before  that  was  called  Wolf;  he  was  very  wild,  and 
ended  his  days  on  the  gallows  for  worrying  sheep. 

The  little  house-dog  never  chased  anything,  to  the 
widow's  knowledge.  There  was  no  reason  whatever 
for  giving  him  a  bad  name,  and  she  thought  of 
several  good  ones,  such  as  Faithful,  and  Trusty,  and 
Keeper,  which  are  fine  old-fashioned  titles,  but  none 
of  these  seemed  quite  perfectly  to  suit  him.  So  he 
was  called  So-so;    and  a  very  nice,  soft  name  it  is. 

The  widow  was  only  a  poor  woman,  though  she 
contrived  by  her  industry  to  keep  a  decent  home 
together,  and  to  get  now  one  and  now  another  little 
comfort  for  herself  and  her  child. 

One  day  she  was  going  out  on  business,  and  she 
called  her  little  daughter  and  said  to  her,  "  I  am 
going  out  for  two  hours.  You  are  too  young  to 
protect  yourself  and  the  house,  and  So-so  is  not  as 
strong  as  Faithful  was.  But  when  I  go,  shut  the 
house  door,  and  bolt  the  big  wooden  bar,  and  be 
sure  that  you  do  not  open  it  for  any  reason  what- 
ever till  I  return. 

^  tes^ti-fied,  bore  witness. 


JUST   AS   WELL.  17 


"  If  strangers  come,  So-so  may  bark,  which  he  can 
do  as  well  as  a  bigger  dog.  Then  they  will  go 
away.  With  this  summer's  savings  I  have  bought 
a  quilted  petticoat  for  you  and  a  duffle^  cloak  for 
myself  J  against  the  winter;  and  if  I  get  the  work  I 
am  going  after  to-day,  I  shall  buy  enough  wool  to 
knit  warm  stockings  for  us  both.  So  be  patient  till 
I  return,  and  then  we  will  have  the  plum  cake  that 
is  in  the  cupboard  for  tea." 

"  Thank  you,  mother." 

"Good-by,  my  child.  Be  sure  and  do  just  as  I 
have  told  you/'  said  the  widow. 

"  Very  well,  mother." 

Little  Joan  laid  down  her  doll,  and  shut  the 
house  door,  and  fastened  the  big  bolt.  It  was  very 
heavy,  and  the  kitchen  looked  gloomy  when  she 
had  done  it. 

^^I  wish  mother  had  taken  us  all  three  with  her, 
and  had  locked  the  house  and  put  the  key  in  her 
big  pocket,  as  she  has  done  before,"  said  little  Joan, 
as  she  got  into  the  rocking-chair  to  put  her  doll 
to  sleep. 

"  Yes,  it  would  have  done  just  as  well,"  So-so 
replied,  as  he  stretched  himself  on  the  hearth. 

By  and  by  Joan  grew  tired  of  hushabying  the 
doll,  who  looked  none  the  sleepier  for  it,  and  she 
took   the   three-legged   stool    and  sat  down  in  front 

^  duffle,  a  kind  of  coarse  woolen  cloth. 
2 — 4r 


18  A   FOURTH   READER. 

of  the  clock  to  watch  the  hands.  After  a  while  she 
drew  a  deep  sigh. 

"There  are  sixty  seconds  in  every  single  minute, 
So-so/'  she  said. 

"So  I  have  heard,"  said  So-so.  He  was  snuff- 
ing in  the  back  place,  which  was  not  usually 
allowed. 

"And  sixty  whole  minutes  in  every  hour,  So-so." 

"  You  do  n't  say  so  !  "  growled  So-so.  He  had 
not  found  a  bit,  and  the  cake  was  on  the  top  shelf. 
There  was  not  so  much  as  a  spilt  crumb,  though 
he  snuffed  in  every  corner  of  the  kitchen  till  he 
stood  snuffing  under  the  house  door. 

"The  air  smells  fresh,"  he  said. 

"  It 's  a  beautiful  day,  I  know,"  said  little  Joan. 
"I  wish  mother  had  allowed  us  to  sit  on  the  door- 
step.    We  could  have  taken  care  of  the  house  — " 

"Just  as  well,"  said  So-so. 

Little  Joan  came  to  smell  the  air  at  the  keyhole, 
and,  as  So-so  had  said,  it  smelt  very  fresh.  Besides, 
one  could  see  from  the  window  how  fine  the  evening 
was. 

"  It 's  not  exactly  what  mother  told  us  to  do," 
said  Joan,  "but  I  do  believe  — " 

"  It  would  do  just  as  well,"  said  So-so. 

By  and  by  little  Joan  unfastened  the  bar  and 
opened  the  door,  and  she  and  the  doll  and  So-so 
went  out  and  sat  on  the  doorstep. 


JUST   AS   WELL.  19 


Not  a  stranger  was  to  be  seen.  The  sun  shone 
delightfully,  —  an  evening  sun,  and  not  too  hot  for 
comfort.  All  day  it  had  been  ripening  the  corn  in 
the  field  close  by,  and  this  glowed  and  waved  in  the 
breeze. 

"  It  does  just  as  well,  and  better,"  said  little  Joan ; 
'^for  if  any  one  comes,  we  can  see  him  coming  up 
the  field  path." 

^'Just  so,"  said  So-so,  blinking  in  the  sunshine. 

Suddenly  Joan  jumped  up. 

^^Oh!"  cried  she,  ^Hhere 's  a  bird,  a  big  bird. 
Dear  So-so,  can  you  see  him  ?  I  can't,  because  of 
the  sun.  What  a  queer  noise  he  makes !  Crake ! 
crake !  Oh !  I  can  see  him  now.  He  is  not  flying, 
he  is  running,  and  he  has  gone  into  the  corn.  I  do 
wish  I  were  in  the  corn!  I  would  catch  him,  and 
put  him  in  a  cage." 

"  I  '11  catch  him,"  said  So-so,  and  he  put  up  his 
tail  and   started  off. 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  Joan.  "  You  are  not  to  go. 
You  must  stay  and  take  care  of  the  house,  and  bark 
if  any  one  comes." 

"  You  could  scream,  and  that  would  do  just  as 
well,"  replied  So-so,  with  his  tail  still  up. 

^^No,  it  wouldn't,"  cried  little  Joan. 

"  Yes,  it  would,"  reiterated  ^  So-so. 

Whilst  they  were  bickering,^  an  old  woman  came 

^  re-it'er-at-ed,  repeated.  ^  bick'er-ing,  wrangling;  disputing. 


20  A   FOURTH    READER. 

up  to  the  door ;    she  had  a  brown  face,  and  black 
hair,  and  a  very  old  red  cloak. 

"Good  evening,  my  little  dear,"  said  she.  "Are" 
you  all  at  home  this  fine  evening?" 

"  Only  three  of  us,"  said  Joan,  — "  I,  and  my 
doll,  and  So-so.  Mother  has  gone  to  the  town  on 
business,  and  we  are  taking  care  of  the  house;  but 
So-so  wants  to  go  after  the  bird  we  saw  run  into 
the  corn." 

"Was  it  a  pretty  bird,  my  little  dear?"  asked 
the  old  woman. 

"It  was  a  very  curious  one,"  said  Joan,  "and  I 
should  like  to  go  after  it  myself,  but  we  can't  leave 
the  house." 

"  Dear,  dear !  Is  there  no  neighbor  would  sit  on 
the  doorstep  for  you,  and  keep  the  house  till  you 
just  slip  down  to  the  field  after  the  curious  bird?" 
said  the  old  w^oman. 

"  I  'm  afraid  not,"  said  little  Joan.  "  Old  Martha, 
our  neighbor,  is  now  bedridden.^  Of  course,  if  she 
had  been  able  to  mind  the  house  instead  of  us,  it 
would  have  done  just  as  well." 

"I  have  some  distance  to  go  this  evening,"  said 
the  old  woman,  "  but  I  do  not  object  to  a  few  minutes' 
rest ;  and  sooner  than  that  you  should  lose  the  bird 
I  will  sit  on  the  doorstep  to  oblige  you,  while  you 
run  down  to  the  cornfield." 

1  bed'rid-den,  kept  to  one's  bed  by  sickness  or  age. 


JUST    AS   WELL.  21 


"  But  can  you  bark  if  any  one  comes  ?  "  asked  Joan. 
"For  if  you  can't,  So-so  must  stay  with  you." 

"  I  can  call  you  and  the  dog  if  I  see  any  one 
coming,  and  that  will  do  just  as  well/'  said  the  old 
woman. 

"So  it  will,"  replied  little  Joan;  and  off  she  ran 
to  the  cornfield,  where,  for  that  matter.  So-so  had 
run  before  her,  and  was  bounding  and  barking  and 
springing  among  the  wheat  stalks. 

They  did  not  catch  the  bird,  though  they  stayed 
longer  than  they  had  intended,  and  though  So-so 
seemed  to  know  more  about  hunting  than  was 
supposed. 

"I  dare  say  mother  has  come  home,"  said  little 
Joan,  as  they  went  back  up  the  field  path.  "  I 
hope  she  won't  think  we  ought  to  have  stayed  in 
the  house ! " 

"  It  was  well  taken  care  of,"  said  So-so,  "  and 
that  must  do  just  as  well." 

When  they  reached  the  house,  the  widow  had  not 
come  home. 

But  the  old  woman  had  gone,  and  she  had  taken 
the  quilted  petticoat  and  the  duffle  cloak,  and  the 
plum  cake  from  the  top  shelf,  away  with  her;  and 
no  more  was  ever  heard  of  any  of  the  lot. 

"For  the  future,  my  child,"  said  the  widow,  "I 
hope  you  will  always  do  just  as  you  are  told,  what- 
ever So-so  may  say." 


22 


A   FOURTH   READER. 


"  I  will,  mother/'  said  little  Joan.  And  she  did. 
But  the  house-dog  sat  and  blinked.  He  dared  not 
speak;  he  was  in  disgrace. 

I  do  not  feel  quite  sure  about  So-so.  Wild  dogs 
often  amend  their  ways  far  on  this  side  of  the  gal- 
lows, and  the  faithful  sometimes  fall;  but  when 
any  one  begins  by  being  only  So-so,  he  is  very  apt 
to  be  So-so  to  the  end.  So-sos  so  seldom  change  for 
the  better. 

But  this  one  was  very  soft  and  nice,  and  he  got 
no  cake  that  tea-time.  On  the  whole,  we  will  hope 
that  he  lived  to  be  a  good  dog  ever  after. 


II.     THAT    CALF, 

By  Alice  Gary. 


N  old  farmer,  one  morn,  hur- 
ried out  to  his  barn, 
Where     the     cattle     were 
standing,  and  said. 
While  they  trembled  with  fright, 
"  Now  which    of   you,    last 
night, 
Shut  the  barn  door  while  I  was  in  bed?" 
Each  one  of  them  half  shook  his  head. 


THAT    CALF.  23 


Now    the    little    calf,   Spot,    she    was    down    in    the 
lot, 

And  the  way  the  rest  did  was  a  shame; 
For  not  one,  night  before,  saw  her  close  up  the  door. 

But  they  said  that  she  did,  all  the  same; 

For  they  always  made  her  bear  the  blame. 

Said   the    horse.    Dapple-gray,    ^^I   was  not  up   this 
way 

Last  night,  as  I  now  recollect ; " 
And  the  bull,  passing  by,  tossed  his  horns  very  high, 

And  said,  "  Where  's  the  one  to  object. 

If  I  say  'tis  that  calf  I  suspect?" 

"  It  is  too  wicked,  now,"  said  the  old  brindle  cow, 
"  To  accuse  honest  folks  of  such  tricks." 

Said  the  cock  in  the  tree,  "  I  am  sure  't  was  n't  me ; " 
All    the    sheep    just    said,    ^^  Bah !  " — there    were 

six ; 
And  they  thought,  now  that  calf's  in  a  fix! 

"  Of    course   we    all    knew    't  was   the    wrong    thing 
to  do," 
Cried  the  chickens;   ^^  Of  course,"  mewed  the  cat; 
^^I   suppose,"   said  the  mule,  ^^some  folks  think  me 
a  fool. 
But  I  'm  not  quite  so  simple  as  that,  — 
Well,  that  calf  never  knows  what  she  's  at !  " 


24  A   FOURTH    READER. 

Just  then  the  poor  calf,  who  was  always  the  laugh 
And  the  jest  of  the  yard,  came  in  sight. 

"  Did   you   shut   my   barn   door  ? "    said   the   farmer 
once  more; 
And  she  answered,  "I  did,  sir,  last  night; 
For  I  thought  that  to  close  it  was  right." 

Now  each   beast   shook   his   head :    "  She  will   catch 
it,"  they  said; 
"  Serve  her  right,  for  her  meddlesome  way." 

Cried  the  farmer :  "  Come  here,  little  bossy,  my  dear ! 
You  have  done  what  I  cannot  repay, 
And  your  fortune  is  made  from  to-day. 

"  Very  strangely,  last  night,  I  forgot  the  door  quite. 
And  if  you  had  not  closed  it  so  neat. 

All  the  colts  had   slipped   in,   and   gone  straight  to 
the  bin, 
And  got  what  they  ought  not  to  eat, — 
They'd  have  foundered^  themselves  upon  wheat." 

Then  each  beast  of  them  all  began  loudly  to  bawl. 
The  mule  tried  to  smile,  the  cock  to  crow; 

^^  Little  Spotty,  my  dear,  you're  the  favorite^  here," 
They  all  cried ;  "  we  're  so  glad  it  was  you !  " 
But  that  calf  only  answered  them,  "  Boo ! " 

1  foun'dered,  made  sick  and  lame. 

2  fa'vor-ite,  best  liked. 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  CAT.  25 

III.  THE  FOX  AND  THE  CAT. 

By  Jakob  and  Wilhelm  Grimm. ^ 

ONE  day  a  cat  met  a  fox  in  the  wood.  ^^Ah/' 
she  thought,  "  he  is  clever  ^^  and  sensible,  and 
talked  of  in  the  world  a  great  deal ;  I  will  speak  to 
him." 

So  she  said,  quite  in  a  friendly  manner,  "  Good 
morning,  dear  Mr.  Fox;  how  are  you?  and  how  do 
affairs  go  with  you  in  these  expensive^  times?" 

The  fox,  full  of  pride,  looked  at  the  cat  from 
head  to  foot,  and  for  a  long  time  hardly  knew  what 
to  say  to  her.  At  last  he  said,  "  You  poor,  little 
whisker  cleaner,  you  gray  old  tabby,  you  hungry 
mouse  hunter!  what  are  you  thinking  about  to  come 
to  me,  and  to  stand  there  and  ask  me  how  I  am 
going  on  ?  What  have  you  learned,  and  how  many 
tricks  do  you  know?" 

"1  know  only  one  trick,"  answered  the  cat,  quite 
meekly. 

^^And  pray  what  is  that?"    he  asked. 

^^Well,"  she  said,  ^^if  the  hounds  are  behind  me, 
I  can  spring  into  a  tree  and  save  myself." 

"Is  that  all?"  cried  the  fox.  "Why,  I  am 
master    of   a   hundred    tricks,    and   have    over    and 

^  Jakob  and  Wilhelm  are  the  German  for  Jacob  and  William, 
2  clev'er,  bright.  ^  ex-pen'sive,  dear;  costly. 


26  A    FOURTH    READER. 

above  all  a  sackful  of  cunning.  But  I  pity  you, 
puss;  so  come  with  me,  and  I  will  teach  you  how 
to  baffle^  both  men  and  hounds." 

At  this  moment  a  hunter,  with  four  hounds,  was 
seen  approaching.^  The  cat  sprang  nimbly  up  a  tree, 
and  seated  herself  on  the  highest  branch,  where,  by 
the  spreading  foliage,^  she  was  quite  concealed.^ 

"  Turn  out  the  sack,  Mr.  Fox !  turn  out  the  sack  !  " 
cried  the  cat;  but  the  hounds  had  already  seized 
him,  and  held  him  fast. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Fox,"  cried  the  cat,  "  your  hundred  tricks 
are  not  of  much  use  to  you ;  now  if  you  had  only 
known  one  like  mine,  you  would  not  have  so  quickly 
lost  your  life." 

From  the  German  of  Grimms'  Fairy  Tales. 

^  baffle,  outwit ;  escape.  ^  foli-age,  leaves. 

2  ap-proach'ing,  coming  nearer.  *  con-cealed',  hid. 


,V'->\^'4ff 


THE    FOX    AND    THE    HORSE.  27 

IV.     THE    FOX    AND    THE    HORSE. 

By  Jakob  and  Wilhelm  Grimm. 

A  PEASANT  ^  once  had  a  faithful  horse,  who  had 
grown  old  and  could  not  serve  his  master  any 
longer ;  he  did  not  care  therefore  to  provide  him  with 
food.  So  he  said  to  the  old  horse,  "  I  really  do  not 
want  you  any  more,  for  you  are  of  no  use  to  me ;  but 
if  you  can  prove  your  strength  by  bringing  me  a  lion, 
I  will  keep  you  as  long  as  you  live.  In  the  meantime, 
however,  just  walk  out  of  my  stable,  and  go  and 
make  yourself  a  home  in  the  fields." 

The  horse,  feeling  very  sad,  wandered  away  till  he 
came  to  a  wood,  so  that  he  might  shelter  himself 
under  the  trees  in  bad  weather.  Here  a  fox  met  him, 
and  said,  "  Friend,  why  do  you  hang  your  head  and 
look  so  lonely  ?" 

"Ah,"  replied  the  horse,  "avarice^  and  fidelity^ 
cannot  dwell  together  in  one  house.  My  master  has 
forgotten  for  how  many  years  I  served  him  and 
bore  him  safely  from  place  to  place  ;  and  now  that 
I  am  unable  to  plow  any  longer,  he  will  not  provide 
me  with  food,  and  has  sent  me  away." 

"  Without  any  consolation^  ? "  asked  the  fox. 

"  The  consolation  was  worthless,"  replied  the  horse. 
"  He  told  me  that  if  I  was  strong  enough  to  bring 

1  peas'ant,  a  countryman  or  rustic.         ^  fi-del'i-ty,  faithfulness. 
*  av'a-rice,  greed.  ^  con-so-la'tion,  comfort. 


28  A   FOURTH    READER. 


him  a  lion,  he  would  take  me  back  and  keep  me ; 
but  he  knows  very  well  that  I  could  not  do  that." 

Then  said  the  fox^  "  Don't  be  downhearted  ;  I  can 
help  you.  Just  lie  down  here,  stretch  yourself  out 
as  if  you  w^ere  dead,  and  do  not  move." 

The  horse  did  as  the  fox  desired  him,  while  the 
fox  went  to  a  lion  whose  den  was  not  far  off. 
"  Yonder  lies  a  dead  horse,''  said  the  fox  to  the  lion  ; 
"  come  with  me  and  I  will  show  you  where  it  is,  and 
you  can  have  a  good  feast." 

The  lion  went  with  the  fox ;  but  when  they  reached 
the  spot  the  fox  said,  "  You  cannot  make  a  meal 
comfortably  here.  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  will  do ;  I  will 
tie  the  horse  to  your  tail,  and  then  you  can  drag  him 
to  your  den  and  consume^  him  at  your  leisure." 

The  lion  was  pleased  with  this  advice;  he  placed 
himself  near  the  horse,  and  stood  quite  still  to  enable 
the  fox  to  tie  the  tail  quite  securely.  But  in  the 
doing  so,  the  fox  contrived  ^  to  twist  the  rope  round 
the  lion's  legs  so  tightly  that  with  all  his  strength 
he  could  not  move  them.  When  the  fox  had  accom- 
plished this  feat  ^  he  struck  the  horse  on  the  shoulder, 
and  cried,  "  Gee  up,  old  horse  !  gee  up  !  " 

Up  sprang  the  horse,  and  started  off  at  full  speed, 
dragging  the  lion  with  him.  As  they  dashed  through 
the  wood,  the  lion  began  to  roar,  and  roared  so  loud 
that  all  the  birds  flew  away  in  a  fright.     But   the 

^  con-sume',  eat.  ^  con-trived',  managed.  ^  feat,  deed. 


HENRY    WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW. 


29 


horse  dragged  him  over  field  and  meadow  to  his 
master's  door.  As  soon  as  the  master  saw  what  his 
horse  had  done,  he  said  to  him,  "  As  you  have  accom- 
plished ^  what  I  required,^  you  shall  now  stay  with  me 
and  have  food  and  shelter  as  long  as  you  live." 

From  the  German  of  Grimms'  Fairy  Tales. 


V.     HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW. 

1807-1882. 

TV /TAN Y  years  ago, 
^^^  in  New  England 
lived  a  boy  who  want- 
ed to  be  a  poet.  Do 
you  know  what  a  poet 
is  ?  He  is  one  who  sees 
the  beautiful  in  every- 
thing, and  can  tell 
about  it  in  such  a  way 
that  others  can  see  it, 
too.  He  even  sees 
beauty  in  things  that 
others  think  ugly. 
The  poet  loves  little 
children,  because  he 
sees  beauty  in  them. 
He  thinks  beautiful  thoughts,  and  tells  them  in  beau- 

^  ac-com'plished,  done.       2  re-quired',  demanded ;  insisted  upon. 


HENRY    WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW. 


30  A    FOURTH    READER. 

tiful  words,  and  he  helps  to  make  people  better  by 
showing  how  beautiful  goodness  is. 

What  he  writes  we  call  poetry.  You  know  how  a 
poem  looks  in  print.  It  is  quite  different  from  prose ; 
it  usually  has  short  lines,  of  about  equal  length. 
Most  poems  are  written  in  rhyme.  You  know  what 
rhymes  are.  But  it  is  not  the  way  it  is  written  that 
makes  a  .poem,  but  rather  the  beautiful  thought  con- 
tained in  it. 

Now  this  boy  loved  rocks,  and  trees,  and  little 
children,  and  running  brooks,  and  flowers,  and  good- 
ness ;  and  he  wanted  to  be  a  poet  so  that  he  could 
tell  others  about  these  things.  His  name  was  Henry 
Wads  worth  Longfellow.  He  was  a  good  scholar, 
and  when  he  was  only  fourteen  years  old,  he  had 
finished  all  the  courses  of  study  in  the  schools,  and 
had  entered  college.  After  he  left  college,  he 
traveled  to  see  the  world,  and  to  learn  some  of  the 
wonderful  things  that  he  could  learn  only  in  that 
way.  Then  he  became  a  professor  in  college,  and 
for  many  years  taught  other  boys  some  of  the 
things  which  he  had  learned. 

But,  best  of  all,  he  loved  to  write  poetry ;  so  that, 
finally,  he  gave  up  teaching  and  spent  the  rest  of 
his  life  in  writing  beautiful  thoughts  for  others  to 
read;  and,  though  he  has  been  dead  now  for  years, 
we  still  like  to  read  what  he  wrote^  All  who  knew 
him  loved  him.     Look  at  his  picture,  and  see  if  you 


HENRY    WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW.  31 

do  not  think  you  would  have  loved  him.  He  lived 
in  Cambridge,  near  Boston,  in  a  fine  old  house  where 
General  Washington  had  once  lived  when  he  was 
fighting  for  his  country. 

There  was  a  large,  open  field  in  front  of  his 
house,  running  down  to  the  Charles  River,  and  the 
poet  used  to  look  over  this  field  down  upon  the 
flowing  river,  and  see  the  boats  go  by.  But,  as 
the  city  grew,  some  man  bought  this  field  and 
was  about  to  put  a  building  on  it.  Mr.  Long- 
fellow was  very  sorry  at  the  thought  of  losing 
the  view  of  his  beloved  river;  so  some  friends 
bought  the  field,  and  said  that  it  should  remain 
open  as  long  as  Mr.  Longfellow  lived,  in  order 
that  the  dear  old  poet  might  not  lose  his  view 
of    the    river. 

Among  the  poems  that  Mr.  Longfellow  wrote  was 
one  called  "  The  Village  Blacksmith."  It  was  about 
a  blacksmith  whose  smithy  stood  under  a  great 
chestnut  tree  in  the  town  where  Mr.  Longfellow 
lived.  After  many  years  the  tree  blew  down  ;  then 
the  schoolchildren  of  Cambridge,  who  had  read 
and  enjoyed  the  poem,  had  a  fine  large  ar-mchair 
made  from  the  wood  of  the  chestnut  tree,  and  gave 
it  to  Mr.  Longfellow  qn  his  birthday.  He  was  so 
pleased  with  the  gift  that  he  wrote  a  poem  about 
it,  and  whenever  a  child  visited  him  he  put  him  in 
this  chair  and  gave  him  a  copy  of  the  poem. 


32  A   FOURTH    READER. 


VI.     HIAWATHA'S   FRIENDS. 

By  Hknry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

TWO  good  friends  had  Hiawatha, 
Singled  out  from  all  the  others, 
Bound  to  him  in  closest  union, 
And  to  whom  he  gave  the  right  hand 
Of  his  heart,  in  joy  and  sorrow; 
Chibiabos,  the  musician, 
And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind. 
Straight     between    them     ran    the 
pathway. 
Never  grew  the  grass  upon  it; 
Singing  birds  that  utter  falsehoods. 
Story-tellers,  mischief-makers. 
Found  no  eager  ear  to  listen. 
Could  not  breed  ill-will  between  them, 
For  they  kept  each  other's  counsel. 
Spake  with  naked  hearts  together. 
Pondering^  much  and  much  contriving^ 
How  the  tribes  of  men  might  prosper. 

Most  beloved  by  Hiawatha 
Was  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  best  of  all  musicians. 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers. 

1  pon'der  ing,  thiakiiig.  ^  con-triv'ing,  planning. 


HIAWATHA'S    FRIENDS. 


33 


Beautiful  and  childlike  was  he, 
Brave  as  man  is,  soft  as  woman, 
PHant^  as  a  wand^  of  willow, 
Stately  as  a  deer  with  antlers. 

When  he  sang,  the  village  listened; 
All  the  warriors  gathered  round  him, 
All  the  women  came  to  hear  him ; 
Now  he  stirred  their  souls  to  passion,^ 
Now  he  melted  them  to  pity. 

From  the  hollow  reeds  he  fashioned 
Flutes  so  musical  and  mellow, 
That  the  brook,  the  Sebowisha, 
Ceased  to  murmur  in  the  woodland, 
That  the  woodbird  ceased  from  singing. 
And  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Ceased  his  chatter  in  the  oak  tree. 
And  the  rabbit,  the  Wabasso, 
Sat  upright  to  look  and  listen. 
All  the  many  sounds  of  nature 
Borrowed  sweetness  from  his  singing ; 
All  the  hearts  of  men  were  softened 
By  the  pathos^  of  his  music; 
For  he  sang  of  peace  and  freedom, 
Sang  of  beauty,  love,  and  longing; 
Sang  of  death,  and  life  undying 
In  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 


^  pli'ant,  easily  bent ;  yielding. 
2  wand,  a  small  rod. 


8  pas'sion,  strong  feeling. 

*  pa'thos,  sadness ;  tender  feeling. 


34  A   FOURTH    READER. 

In  the  kingdom  of  Ponernah^ 
In  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 

Very  dear  to  Hiawatha 
Was  the  gentle  Chibiabos^ 
He  the  best  of  all  musicians^ 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers; 
For  his  gentleness  he  loved  him 
And  the  magic  of  his  singing. 

Dear,  too,  unto  Hiawatha 
Was  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
He  the  strongest  of  all  mortals, 
He  the  mightiest  among  many; 
For  his  very  strength  he  loved  him, 
For  his  strength  allied^  to  goodness. 

Idle  in  his  youth  was  Kwasind, 
Very  listless,^  dull  and  dreamy, 
Never  played  with  other  children, 
Never  fished  and  never  hunted. 
Not  like  other  children  was  he ; 
But  they  saw  that  much  he  fasted. 
Much  his  Manito^  entreated,* 
Much  besought  the  Guardian  Spirit. 

"  Lazy  Kwasind  !  "  said  his  father, 
"  In  the  hunt  you  never  help  me ; 

^  al-lied',  joined  to.  ^  Ustless,  not  active  ;  not  interested. 

8  Man'i-to,  a  spirit  held  in  religious  awe  by  the  Indians. 
*  en-treat'ed,  prayed  to. 


HIAWATHA'S    FRIENDS. 


35 


"  Dear,  too,  unto  Hiawatha 
Was  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind" 


36  A   FOURTH    READER. 

Every  bow  you  touch  is  broken, 

Snapped  asunder^  every  arrow; 

Yet  come  with  me  to  the  forest, 

You  shall  bring  the  hunting  homeward." 


Indian    Bow  and    Ai-rov^ 


Down  a  narrow  pass  they  wandered, 
Where  a  brooklet  led  them  onward, 
Where  the  trail  of  deer  and  bison 
Marked  the  soft  mud  on  the  margin,^ 
Till  they  found  all  further  passage 
Shut  against  them,  barred  securely 
By  the  trunks  of  trees  uprooted, 
Lying  lengthwise,  lying  crosswise, 
And  forbidding  further  passage. 

"We  must  go  back,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  O'er  these  logs  we  cannot  clamber  ^ ; 
Not  a  woodchuck  could  get  through  them, 
Not  a  squirrel  clamber  o'er  them ! " 
And  straightway  his  pipe  he  lighted. 
And  sat  down  to  smoke  and  ponder. 
But  before  his  pipe  was  finished, 

^  a-sun'der,  apart.  ^  mar'gin,  edge. 

3  clam'ber,  climb,  or  cross  with  difficulty. 


HIAWATHA'S   FRIENDS.  37 

Lo!    the  path  was  cleared  before  him; 
All  the  trunks  had  Kwasind  lifted, 
To  the  right  hand,  to  the  left  hand, 
Shot  the  pine  trees  swift  as  arrows, 
Hurled  the  cedars  light  as  lances. 
,    ^^Lazy  Kwasind!"  said  the  young  men, 
As  they  sported  in  the  meadow. 
^^Why  stand  idly  looking  at  us. 
Leaning  on  the  rock  behind  you  ? 
Come  and  wrestle  with  the  others. 
Let  us  pitch  and  quoit ^  together!" 

Lazy  Kwasind  made  no  answer. 
To  their  challenge  made  no  answer, 
Only  rose  and,  slowly  turning, 
Seized  the  huge  rock  in  his  fingers, 
Tore  it  from  its  deep  foundation, 
Poised^  it  in  the  air  a  moment, 
Pitched  it  sheer  into  the  river. 
Sheer  into  the  swift  Pauwating, 
Where  it  still  is  seen  in  Summer. 

Once  as  down  that  foaming  river, 
Down  the  rapids  of  Pauwating, 
Kwasind  sailed  with  his  companions, 
In  the  stream  he  saw  a  beaver, 
Saw  Ahmeek,  the  King  of  Beavers, 
Struggling  w^ith  the  rushing  currents, 
Rising,  sinking  in  the  water. 

^  quoit,  to  throw  quoits.  2  poised,  held  steadily  ;  balanced. 


38  A    FOURTH    READER. 


Without  speaking,  without  pausing, 
Kwasind  leaped  into  the  river, 
Phmged  beneath  the  bubbling  surface. 
Through  the  whirlpools  chased  the  beaver, 
Followed  him  among  the  islands. 
Stayed  so  long  beneath  the  water, 
That  his  terrified^  companions 
Cried,  ^^  Alas  !  good-by  to  Kwasind  ! 
We  shall  never  more  see  Kwasind ! " 
But  he  reappeared^  triumphant,^ 
And  upon  his  shining  shoulders 
Brought  the  beaver,  dead  and  dripping, 
Brought  the  King  of  all  the  Beavers. 

And  these  two,  as  I  have  told  you, 
Were  the  friends  of  Hiawatha, 
Chibiabos,  the  musician. 
And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasindo 
Long  they  lived  in  peace  together. 
Spake  with  naked  hearts  together, 
Pondering  much,  and  much  contriving, 
How  the  tribes  of  men  might  prospero* 

^  ter'ri-fied,  frightened. 

2  re-ap-peared',  came  in  sight  again. 

3  tri-um'phant,  rejoicing  in  victory, 
*  pros'per,  do  well  ;  be  happy. 


INDIAN  HELMET. 


HIAWATHA'S    DEPARTURE 


39 


VII.     HIAWATHA'S    DEPARTURE. 


Y    the    shore   of 
Gitche  Gumee, 
the    shining    Big-Sea- 
Water, 

the    doorway     of    his 
wigwam, 
In  the  pleasant  Summer  morning, 
Hiawatha  stood  and  waited. 

All  the  air  was  full  of  freshness. 
And  the  earth  was  bright  and  joyous. 
And  before  him,  through  the  sunshine. 
Westward  towards  the  neighboring  forest, 
Passed  in  golden  swarms  the.  Ahmo, 
Passed  the  bees,  the  honey  makers, 
Burning,  singing  in  the  sunshine. 

Bright  above  him  shone  the  heavens, 
Level  spread  the  lake  before  him ; 
From  its  bosom  leaped  the  sturgeon, 
Sparkling,  flashing  in  the  sunshine; 


40  A    FOURTH    READER. 

On  its  margin  the  great  forest 
Stood  reflected  ^  in  the  water ; 
Every  tree-top  had  its  shadow, 
Motionless  beneath  the  water. 

From  the  brow  of  Hiawatha 
Gone  was  every  trace  of  sorrow, 
As  the  fog  from  off  the  water, 
As  the  mist  from  off  the  meadow. 
With  a  smile  of  joy  and  triumph, 
With  a  look  of  exultation,^ 
As  of  one  who  in  a  vision 
Sees  what  is  to  be,  but  is  not. 
Stood  and  waited  Hiawatha. 

Toward  the  sun  his  hands  were  lifted, 
Both  the  palms  spread  out  against  it. 
And  between  the  parted  fingers 
Fell  the  sunshine  on  his  features, 
Flecked  with  light  his  naked  shoulders, 
As  it  falls  and  flecks^  an  oak  tree 
Through  the  rifted^  leaves  and  branches. 

Slowly  o'er  the  simmering^  landscape 
Fell  the  evening  s  dusk  and  coolness. 
And  the  long  and  level  sunbeams 
Shot  their  spears  into  the  forest. 
Breaking  through  its  shields  of  shadow, 

*  re-flect'ed,  thrown  back,  as  from  a  mirror. 

2  ex-ul-ta'-tion,  great  joy.  ^  rift'ed,  parted. 

*  flecks,  spots.  ^  sim'mer-ing,  heated. 


HIAWATHA'S    DEPARTURE.  41 

Rushed  into  its  secret  ambush/ 
Searched  each  thicket,  dingle,^  hollow; 
Still  the  guests  of  Hiawatha 
Slumbered  in  the  silent  wigwam.^ 

From  his  place  rose  Hiawatha, 
Bade  farewell  to  old  Nokomis, 
Spake  in  whispers,  spake  in  this  wise, 
Did  not  wake  the  guests  that  slumbered: 

"  I  am  going,  0  Nokomis, 
On  a  long  and  distant  journey, 
To  the  portals^  of  the  Sunset, 
To  the  regions  of  the  home-wind, 
Of  the  Northwest  wind,  Keewaydin. 
But  these  guests  I  leave  behind  me, 
In  your  watch  and  ward  I  leave  them ; 
See  that  never  harm  comes  near  them, 
See  that  never  fear  molests^  them, 
Never  danger  nor  suspicion,^ 
Never  want  of  food  or  shelter. 
In  the  lodge  of  Hiawatha !  " 

Forth  into  the  village  went  he. 
Bade  farewell  to  all  the  warriors, 
Bade  farewell  to  all  the  young  men. 
Spake  persuading,  spake  in  this  wise : 

"I  am  going,  0  my  people, 

^  am'bush,  a  concealed  place.  *  por'tals,  gates. 

2  din'gle,  a  small  dell.  ^  mo-lests',  harms ;  troubles. 

8  "wig'-wam,  an  Indian  tent  made  of  bark;     ^  sus-pi'cion,  fear  of  evil. 


42  A   FOURTH    READER. 

On  a  long  and  distant  journey; 
Many  moons  and  many  winters 
Will  have  come,  and  will  have  vanished, 
Ere  I  come  again  to  see  you. 
But  my  guests  I  leave  behind  me; 
Listen  to  their  words  of  wisdom, 
Listen  to  the  truth  they  tell  you, 
For  the  Master  of  Life  has  sent  them 
From  the  land  of  light  and  morning ! " 

On  the  shore  stood  Hiawatha, 
Turned  and  waved  his  hand  at  parting; 
On  the  clear  and  luminous  ^  water 
Launched  his  birch  canoe  for  sailing, 
From  the  pebbles  of  the  margin 
Shoved  it  forth  into  the  water; 
Whispered  to  it,  "Westward!  westward!" 
And  with  speed  it  darted  forward. 

And  the  evening  sun  descending 
Set  the  clouds  on  fire  with  redness, 
Burned  the  broad  sky  like  a  prairie, 
Left  upon  the  level  water 
One  long  track  and  trail  of  splendor, 
Down  whose  stream,  as  down  a  river, 
Westward,  westward,  Hiawatha 
Sailed  into  the  fiery  sunset. 
Sailed  into  the  purple  vapors. 
Sailed  into  the  dusk  of  evening. 

^  lu'mi-nous,  shining. 


HIAWATHA'S    DEPARTURE.  43 

And  the  people  from  the  margin 
Watched  him  floating,  rising,  sinking, 
Till  the  birch  canoe  seemed  lifted 
High  into  that  sea  of  splendor, 
Till  it  sank  into  the  vapors 
Like  the  new  moon  slowly,  slowly 
Sinking  in  the  purple  distance. 

And  they  said,  "  Farewell  forever !  " 
Said,  ^^ Farewell,  0  Hiawatha!" 
And  the  forests,  dark  and  lonely. 
Moved  through  all  their  depths  of  darkness, 
Sighed,  ^^ Farewell,  0  Hiawatha!" 
And  the  waves  upon  the  margin 
Rising,  rippling  on  the  pebbles. 
Sobbed, /^Farewell,  0  Hiawatha!" 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  the  haunts  among  the  fen-lands, 
Screamed,  "  Farewell,  0  Hiawatha !  " 

Thus  departed  Hiawatha, 
Hiawatha  the  Beloved, 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
In  the  purple  mists  of  evening, 
To  the  regions  of  the  home-wind. 
Of  the  Northwest  wind,  Keewaydin, 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter! 


44  A   FOURTH    READER. 


VIII.     EXCELSIOR. 

By  Henry  Wadswortii  Longfellow. 

HE  shades  of  night  were  falling 

fast, 
As  through  an  Alpine  village  passed 
A  youth,  who  bore,  'mid  snow  and 
ice, 
A  banner  with  the  strange  device. 
Excelsior !  ^ 

His  brow  was  sad ;    his  eye  be- 
neath, 

Flashed  like  a  falchion  ^  from  its 
sheath, 
And  like  a  silver  clarion^  rung 
The  accents  of  that  unknown  tongue. 
Excelsior ! 

In  happy  homes  he  saw  the  light 
Of  household  fires  gleam  warm  and  bright; 
Above,  the  spectral^  glaciers^  shone,. 
And  from  his  lips  escaped  a  groan. 
Excelsior ! 

1  ex-cer-si-or,  still  higher.  ^  clar'ion,  a  kind  of  horn. 

2  fal'-chion,  a  broad-bladed  sword.  *  spec'tral,  ghostly. 

^  gla'ciers,  rivers  of  ice. 


EXCELSIOR.  45 


"  Try  not  the  Pass !  "  the  old  man  said ; 
''  Dark  lowers  the  tempest  overhead, 
The  roaring  torrent  is  deep  and  wide !  " 
And  loud  the  clarion  voice  replied, 
Excelsior ! 

"  Oh,  stay  !  "  the  maiden  said,  "  and  rest 
Thy  weary  head  upon  this  breast !  " 
A  tear  stood  in  his  bright  blue  eye, 
But  still  he  answered,  with  a  sigh, 
Excelsior ! 

''  Beware  the  pine  tree's  withered  branch  I 
Beware  the  awful  avalanche  !  "  ^ 
This  was  the  peasant's  last  Good-night. 
A  voice  replied  far  up  the  height. 
Excelsior ! 

At  break  of  day,  as  heavenward 
The  pious  monks  of  Saint  Bernard 
Uttered  the  oft-repeated  prayer, 
A  voice  cried  through  the  startled  air. 
Excelsior ! 

A  traveler,  by  the  faithful  hound. 
Half-buried  in  the  snow  was  found, 
Still  grasping  in  his  hand  of  ice 
That  banner  with  the  strange  device, 
Excelsior ! 

1  av'-a-lanche,  a  large  body  of  sliding  snow. 


40  A   FOURTH    READER. 

There  in  the  twilight  cold  and  gray, 
Lifeless,  but  beautiful,  he  lay. 
And  from  the  sky,  serene  and  far, 
A  voice  fell,  like  a  falling  star, 
Excelsior ! 


IX.     THE    ANTS'    MONDAY    DINNER. 

By  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  ("  H.  H."). 

PART   I. 

HOW  did  I  know  what  the  ants  had  for  dinner 
last  Monday?  It  is  odd  that  I  should  have 
known,  but  I  '11  tell  you  how  it  happened. 

I  was  sitting  under  a  great  pine  tree,  high  up  on 
a  hillside.  The  hillside  was  more  than  seven  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  sea,  and  this  is  higher  than  most 
mountains.  But  this  hillside  was  in  Colorado ;  so 
^there  was  nothing  wonderful  in  its  being  so  high. 

I  had  w^atched  the  great  mountains  with  snow 
upon  them,  and  the  forest  of  pine  trees  —  miles  and 
miles  of  them  —  so  close  together  that  it  looks  as  if 
one  might  lie  down  upon  their  tops  and  not  fall 
through. 

My  eyes  were  tired  with  looking  at  such  great, 
grand  things,  so  many  miles  away ;  so  I  looked  down 
upon  the  ground  where  T  was  sitting,  and  watched 
the  ants,  which  were    running  about  everywhere,  as 


THE    ANTS'    MONDAY   DINNER.  47 

busy  and  restless  as  if  they  had  the  whole  world  on 
their  shoulders. 

Suddenly  I  saw  under  a  tuft  of  grass  a  tiny 
caterpillar,  which  seemed  to  be  bounding  along  in 
a  strange  way :  in  a  second  more  I  saw  an  ant  seize 
him  and  begin  to  drag  him  off. 

The  caterpillar  was  three  times  as  long  as  the 
ant,  and  his  body  was  more  than  twice  as  large  round 
as  the  biggest  part  of  the  ant's  body. 

*^^Ho!  ho!  Mr.  Ant/'  said  I,  ^^you  are  not  strong 
enough  to  drag  that  fellow  very  far." 

Why,  it  was  about  the  same  as  if  you  should 
drag  a  heifer  ^  \vhich  was  kicking  all  the  time ;  only 
a  heifer  has  not  half  as  many  legs  with  which  to 
catch  hold  of  things  as  the  caterpillar  had. 

Poor  caterpillar !  how  he  did  try  to  get  away ! 
But  the  ant  never  gave  him  a  second's  time  to  get 
a  good  grip  of  anything ;  and  he  was  cunning  enough, 
too,  to  drag  him  on  his  side,  so  that  he  could  not 
use  his  legs  very  well. 

Up  and  down,  under  and  over  sticks  and  stones, 
in  and  out  of  tufts  of  grass,  up  to  the  top  of  the 
tallest  blades  and  down  again,  over  gravel  and  sand 
and  across  bridges  of  pine  needles,  from  stone  to 
stone,  backward  all  the  way,  but,  for  all  I  could  see, 
just  as  swiftly  as  if  he  were  going  head  foremost, 
ran  that  ant,  dragging  the  caterpillar  after  him. 

1  heifer  (hef'fer),  a  young  cow. 


48  A    FOURTH    READER. 

I  watched  him  very  closely,  thinking  of  course  he 
must  be  going  toward  his  house. 

Presently  ^  he  darted  up  the  trunk  of  the  pine  tree. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  said  I.  "Ants  do  not 
live  in  pine  trees." 

The  bark  of  the  tree  was  broken  and  jagged,^ 
and  full  of  seams  twenty  times  as  deep  as  the  height 
of  the  ant's  body.  He  did  not  mind ;  down  one  side 
and  up  the  other  he  went. 

I  had  to  watch  very  closely  not  to  lose  sight  of 
him  altogether.  I  began  to  think  he  was  merely 
trying  to  kill  the  caterpillar,  —  that  perhaps  he 
did  n't  mean  to  eat  him  at  all.  How  did  I  know  but 
some  ants  hunt  caterpillars,  the  same  as  some  men 
hunt  deer,  for  fun,  and  not  at  all  because  they  need 
food? 

If  I  had  been  sure  of  this,  I  would  have  spoiled 
Mr.  Ant's  sport,  and  set  the  poor  caterpillar  free. 
But  I  never  heard  of  an  ant's  being  cruel;  and  if 
it  were  really  for  dinner  for  his  family  that  he  was 
working  so  hard,  I  thought  he  ought  to  be  helped 
and  not  hindered. 

^  pres'ent-ly,  soon.  2  jag'ged,  rough;  notched. 


THE    ANTS'    MONDAY    DINNER.  49 

PART  ir. 

Just  then  my  attention  was  diverted^  by  a  sharp 
cry  overhead. 

I  looked  up  and  saw  an  immense  hawk  sailing  round 
in  circles,  with  two  small  birds  flying  after,  pouncing 
down  upon  his  head,  then  darting  away,  and  all  the 
time  making  shrill  cries  of  fright  and  hatred.  I  knew 
very  well  what  was  meant.  Mr.  Hawk  was  trying 
to  do  some  marketing  for  his  dinner.  He  had  his 
eyes  on  some  little  birds  in  their  nest ;  and  the  father 
and  mother  birds  were  driving  him  away. 

You  would  not  have  believed  that  two  such  little 
creatures  could  drive  away  such  a  creature  as  a 
hawk,  but  they  did. 

They  seemed  to  fairly  buzz  around  his  head,  as 
flies  do  around  horses;  and  at  last  he  flew  off  so 
far  that  he  vanished  in  the  sky,  and  the  little  birds 
came  skimming  home  into  the  wood. 

"The  little  people  are  stronger  than  the  great 
ones,  after  all,"  I  said. 

But  where  has  my  ant  gone  ? 

It  had  not  been  two  minutes  that  I  had  been  watch- 
ing the  hawk  and  the  birds,  but  in  that  two  minutes  ^ 
the  ant  and  the  caterpillar  had  disappeared. 

At  last  I  found  them,  —  where  do  you  think  ? 
In  a  fold  of  my  waterproof  cloak,  on   which  I  was 

^  di-vert'ed,  turned  aside. 


50  A    FOURTH    READER. 

sitting.  The  ant  had  let  go  of  the  caterpillar  and 
was  running  round  and  round  hinij  and  the  caterpillar 
was  too  near  dead  to  stir.  I  shook  the  fold  out, 
and  as  soon  as  the  cloth  lay  straight  and  smooth, 
the  ant  fastened  his  nippers  into  the  caterpillar  again, 
and  started  off  as  fast  as  ever. 

By  this  time  the  caterpillar  was  so  limp  and 
helpless  that  the  ant  was  not  afraid  of  losing  him ; 
so  he  stopped  a  second  now  and  then  to  rest. 

Sometimes  he  would  spring  upon  the  caterpillar's 
back,  and  stretch  himself  out  there  ;  sometimes  he 
would  stand  still  and  look  at  him  sharply,  keeping 
one  nipper  on  his  head. 

It  astonished  me  at  first  that  none  of  the  ants 
he  met  took  any  notice  of  him ;  they  all  went  their 
own  ways,  and  did  not  so  much  as  sniff  at  the 
caterpillar.  But  soon  I  said  to  myself,  "  Do  you  not 
suppose  that  ants  can  be  as  well  behaved  as  people  ? 
When  you  passed  Mr.  Jones,  yesterday,  you  did  not 
peep  into  his  market  basket,  nor  touch  the  big 
cabbage  he  had  under  his  arm." 

Presently  the  ant  dropped  the  caterpillar,  and  ran 
on  a  few  steps  —  I  mean  inches  —  to  meet  another 
ant  who  was  coming  towards  him.  They  put  their 
heads  close  together  for  a  second.  I  could  not  hear 
what  they  said,  but  they  both  ran  quickly  back  to 
the  caterpillar,  and  one  took  him  by  the  head  and 
the  other  by  the  tail,  and  they  got  on  finely. 


THE    ANTS*    MONDAY    DINNER.  51 

It  was  only  a  few  steps  to  the  ant's  house.  The 
door  w^as  a  round  hole  in  the  ground,  about  the  size 
of  my  little  finger.  Several  ants  were  standing  in 
the  doorway  watching  these  two  as  they  came  up 
with  the  caterpillar. 

They  all  took  hold  as  soon  as  the  caterpillar  was 
on  the  doorsteps,  and  almost  before  I  knew  he  was 
fairly  there  they  tumbled  him  down,  heels  over  head, 
into  the  ground,  and  that  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him. 

The  oddest  thing  was  the  way  the  ants  came 
running  home  from  all  directions.  I  do  not  believe 
there  was  any  dinner  bell  rung,  though  there  might 
have  been  a  finer  one  than  my  ears  could  hear,  but 
in  less  than  a  minute  I  had  counted  thirty-three  ants 
running  down  that  hole. 

I  fancied  they  looked  as  hungry  as  wolves.  I 
had  a  great  mind  to  dig  down  into  the  hole  with 
a  stick  to  see  what  had  become  of  the  caterpillar ; 
but  I  thought  it  would  not  be  quite  fair  to  take 
the  roof  off  a  man's  house  to  see  how  he  cooked  his 
beef  for  dinner.  So  I  sat  still  awhile,  wondering 
how  they  would  serve  him,  and  if  they  would  leave 
any  for  Tuesday,  and  then  went  home  to  my  own 
dinner. 


52 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


X.     THE    COW    AND    THE    ASS. 
By  Jane  Taylor. 

HARD  by  a  green  meadow  a  stream  used  to 
flow^ 
So  clear   one   might  see  the   white    pebbles 
below ; 
To  this  cooling  stream  the  warm  cattle  would  stray, 
To  stand  in  the  shade  on  a  hot  summer's  day. 

A  cow,  quite  oppressed^  with  the  heat  of  the  sun, 
Came  here  to  refresh,  as  she  often  had  done; 
And,  standing  stock  still,  leaning  over  the  stream, 
Was  musing,^  perhaps,  or  perhaps  she  might  dream. 

But  soon  a  brown  ass,  of  respectable  look. 
Came  trotting  up  also  to  taste  of  the  brook, 


^  op-pressed',  overcome ;  worn  out. 
2  mus'ing,  thinking. 


THE    COW    AND    THE    ASS.  53 

And  to  nibble  a  few  of  the  daisies  and  grass. 
"How  d'ye  do?"  said  the  cow.     "How  d'ye  do?" 
said  the  ass. 

"Take    a    seat/'    cried   the    cow,  gently   waving   her 

hand. 
"  By  no  means,  dear  madam/'   said  he,  "  while  you 

stand." 
Then,  stooping  to  drink,  with  a  complaisant^  bow, 
"Ma'am,  your  health,"  said  the  ass.  —  "Thank  you, 

sir,"  said  the  cow. 

When  a  few  of  their  compliments  ^  more  had  been  past. 
They  laid  themselves  down  on  the  herbage  ^  at  last ; 
And,  waiting  politely  (as  gentlemen  must). 
The  ass  held  his  tongue,  that  the  cow  might  speak 
first. 

Then,  with  a  deep  sigh,  she  directly  began, 
"'  Don't  you  think,  Mr.  Ass,  we  are  injured  by  man  ? 
'T  is  a  subject  that  lays  with  a  weight  on  my  mind ; 
We  certainly  are  much  oppressed  by  mankind. 

"Now,  what  is  the  reason  (I  see  none  at  all,) 
That  I  always  must  go  when   Suke  chooses  to  call? 

1  com'plai-sarit  (com'pla-zant'),  courteous;  obliging. 

2  com'pli-ments,  flattering  speeches. 

3  herb'age  pasture  grass. 


64  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Whatever  I  'm  doing  ('t  is  certainly  hard,) 
At  once  I  must  go  to  be  milked  in  the  yard. 

'^  I  Ve    no    will    of    my   own,  but   must   do   as   they 

please, 
And  give  them  my  milk  to  make  butter  and  cheese  \ 
I  've  often  a  vast  mind  to  knock  down  the  pail, 
Or  give  Suke  a  box  on  the  ear  with  my  tail." 

^^But,    ma'am,"    said    the    ass,    ^^not    presuming^  to 

teach  — 
Oh,  dear!     I  beg  pardon  —  pray  finish  your  speech; 
I  thought  you  had   done,   ma'am,   indeed,"   said  the 

swain  \  ^ 
"Go  on,  and  I  '11  not  interrupt  you  again." 

"Why,  sir,  I  w^as  only  a-going  to  observe, 

I  'm  resolved  ^  that  these  tyrants  no  longer  I  '11  serve. 

But  leave  them  forever  to  do  as  they  please. 

And  look  somewhere  else  for  their  butter  and  cheese." 

The  ass  waited  a  moment  to  see  if  she  'd  done ; 
And  then,  "  Not  presuming  to  teach,"  he  begun, 
"With  submission,^  dear  madam,  to  your  better  wit, 
I  own  I  am  not  quite  convinced^  yet  of  it. 

1  pre-sum'ing,  taking  the  liberty. 

2  swain,  a  young  nnan;  here  used  of  a  young  animal. 

3  re-solved',  determined. 

4  sub-mis'sion,  giving  way;  yielding. 

^  con-vinced',  persuaded ;  made  to  believe. 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.  55 

"  That  you  're  of  great  service  to  them  is  quite  true, 
But  surely  they  are  of  some  service  to  you : 
'T  is  their  nice  green  meadow  in  which  you  regale ;  ^ 
They  feed  you  in  winter  when  grass  and  weeds  fail ; 

^''T  is  under  their  shelter  you  snugly  repose, 
When,  without  it,   dear  ma'am,  you   perhaps  might 

be  froze. 
For  my  own  part,  I  know  I  receive  much  from  man, 
And  for  him,  in  return,  I  do  all  that  I  can." 

The  cow,  upon  this,  cast  her  eyes  on  the  grasS;, 
Not  pleased  at  thus  being  reproved  by  an  ass; 
"Yet,"  thought  she,  "I'm  determined  I'll  benefit^ 

by  't. 
For  I  really  believe  the  fellow  is  right." 


XI.     HOW   LITTLE   CEDRIC   BECAME   A   KNIGHT. 

By  Elizabeth  Harrison. 

ALONG  time  ago  there  lived  a  little  boy  whose 
name  was  Cedric.^  At  the  foot  of  a  high  hill, 
on  the  top  of  which  stood  a  grand  old  castle,  was 
the  stone  hut  in  which  he  lived.  The  little  boy  had 
many  a  time  watched  the  strong  iron  gate  rise  slowly 

1  re-gale',  refresh;  feast.     2  ben'e-fit,  profit.     3  Ced'ric  (Ked'rick). 


66  A   FOURTH    READER. 

from  the  ground  as  out  of  the  courtyard  of  the  castle 
would  ride  Sir  Eollin  Dubois  and  his  faithful  soldiers. 

There  were  sometimes  two  or  three  visiting  knights 
and  their  followers,  and  they  were  a  gay  sight  as 
the  sun  shone  on  their  glittering  ^  armor  of  steel,  and 
glanced  from  their  bright  helmets.  They  looked  so 
strong  and  resolute^  as  they  sat,  calm  and  erect,  in 
their  saddles.  A  glance  into  their  fine  faces  would 
have  assured  you  that  they  were  noble  and  brave, 
and  could  be  trusted  by  everybody,  from  the  King 
to  the  poorest  peasant  in  the  land.  Their  very 
horses  seemed  proud  to  carry  them  as  they  galloped 
along. 

Little  Cedric  thought  there  never  was  anything 
more  beautiful  than  these  knights  as  they  came 
down  the  hill  on  some  quest  ^  of  adventure  or  errand 
of  mercy. 

One  day  Cedric  had  been  playing  with  his  pet 
kitten.  After  a  good  romp  with  her,  he  had  thrown 
himself  down  on  the  soft  green  grass  to  rest,  and 
the  queer  little  kitten  had  gone  out  into  the  middle 
of  the  dusty  road  and  curled  herself  up  for  a  nice 
nap. 

Suddenly  Cedric  looked  up  and  saw  five  knights 
with  all  their  squires  and  pages  ^  galloping  down 
the   road !      In   a  moment  more   his   eye   fell   upon 

1  glit'ter-ing,  shining.         ^  res'o-lute,  bold.         ^  quest,  search. 
*  squires  and  pages,  attendants  on  great  persons. 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.         57 

the  kitten  lying  fast  asleep  in  the  middle  of  the 
highway.  Fearing  that  the  horsemen  would  not  see 
her,  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  ran  quickly  forward,  and 
gathered  the  soft  little  thing  up  in  his  arms  just 
in  time  to  save  it  from  the  horses'  feet. 

As  the  riders  passed,  one  of  the  tall  knights 
slackened  his  horse,  and,  smiling  down  upon  Cedric, 
said,  "  My  little  fellow,  you  are  almost  brave  enough 
to  be  a  knight  some  day."  He  then  galloped  on  to 
join  his  party,  and  soon  the  yellow  dust  which  they 
had  raised  from  the  ground  settled  down  again. 

Cedric  stood  looking  after  the  horsemen  until  they 
'  seemed  a  mere  speck  in  the  distance,  and  then  dis- 
appeared altogether.  He  did  not  even  notice  the 
kitten  in  his  arms  when  she  put  her  nose  up  against 
his  cheek. 

At  last  he  turned  to  go  into  the  house,  and  as  he 
went  he  said  softly  to  himself,  "  To  be  a  knight 
some  day ! "  He  ate  his  simple  supper  of  bread 
and  milk  in  silence.  His  mother  noticed  how  quiet 
he  was,  but  she  said  nothing;  for  she  knew  that  in 
his  own  good  time  he  would  tell  her  all  that  was 
in  his  heart. 

That  night  as  he  undressed  for  bed  he  looked  up 
at  the  stars  and  said  in  a  soft,  low  tone,  "  Beautiful 
stars,  do  you  know  what  a  wonderful  thing  Sir 
RoUin  said  to  me  to-day?  He  told  me  that  perhaps 
some  day  I  might  be  a  knight ! "     He  could  hardly 


58  A   FOURTH    READER. 

sleep,  he  was  so  happy.  The  great  knight  had 
spoken  to  him,  had  praised  his  courage,  and,  best  of 
all,  had  said  that  perhaps  some  day  he,  Cedric, 
might  be  a  great  knight  himself! 

"  Could  such  a  thing  possibly  come  to  pass  V  He 
asked  himself  this  question  over  and  over  again,  until 
at  last  he  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  that  he  was  a 
large,  strong  man,  and  wore  a  shining  armor  of  steel, 
and  rode  a  splendid  black  horse,  and  carried  a  great 
sword,  and  that  all  the  people  of  the  country  round 
about  honored  and  loved  him  because  he  was  one  of 
the  bravest  knights  in  the  whole  land. 

Just  as  he  was  dreaming  that  he  was  about  to 
rescue  a  beautiful  princess  from  an  ugly  giant  who 
had  shut  her  up  in  a  prison,  he  heard  his  mother 
calling  him.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  that  the 
sky  was  all  pink  and  gold  with  the  clouds  of  the 
sunrise,  and  that  he  was  only  little  Cedric  in  his 
attic  chamber.  He  dressed  himself  quickly  and 
climbed  down  the  wooden  ladder  to  the  room  below. 

He  was  soon  busy  and  happy,  helping  his  mother 
feed  the  doves,  and  water  the  cow,  and  fetch  hay  for 
the  two  horses.  After  his  father  had  eaten  his 
breakfast  and  had  gone  to  his  work  in  the  field,  the 
little  would-be  knight  and  his  mother  washed  the 
dishes  and  tidied  the  two  small  rooms.  Cedric  was 
very  fond  of  thus  helping  her  with  the  work,  and 
she    often    said,    "My    little    boy   is    both    son    and 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.  59 

daughter  to  me.'*'  By  and  by  she  sat  down  to  her 
sewing. 

Then  Cedric  could  keep  his  secret  no  longer.  Go- 
ing up  to  her,  he  put  his  arm  around  her  neck 
and  whispered  to  her  the  story  of  the  knight,  how 
he  had  stopped  and  spoken,  and  what  he  had  said. 
^^Do  you  think  I  could  ever  grow  up  to  be  a  knight, 
mother?"  asked  he. 

His  mother  smiled,  and  then  looked  sober  as  she 
brushed  his  brown  hair  back  from  his  forehead  and 
said,  "  Knights  have  many,  many  hard  things  to  do, 
my  son,  and  oftentimes  their  lives  are  in  danger." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  answered  Cedric,  eagerly,  "but 
think,  mother,  how  brave  they  are,  and  how  good ! 
Do  they  not  protect  our  country?" 

"Yes/'  said  his  mother,  "I  know  all  that.  I  could 
not  sleep  at  night  when  our  enemies  are  near  at  hand 
if  I  did  not  know  that  Sir  Rollin  Dubois  and  his 
brave  soldiers  were  on  the  hill  close  by.  But  you 
are  a  very  little  boy,  Cedric.  Run  out  to  your  play 
now." 

Many  times  during  the  next  few  weeks  little  Cedric 
thought  of  the  grand  knights,  and  how  one  of  them 
had  smiled  at  him  and  had  spoken  as  if  he,  Cedric, 
might  some  day  be  a  great,  strong  knight,  and  ride 
a  beautiful  horse,  and  do  brave  deeds. 

Weeks  passed  by,  and  the  spring  had  changed  into 
summer.     One  evening,  just  as  the  setting  sun   was 


60  A    FOURTH    READER. 


turning  all  the  white  clouds  into  gold  and  crimson^ 
Cedric  stood  in  the  low  doorway,  wondering  if  where 
the  angels  lived  could  be  more  beautiful  than  was 
the  sky  over  his  dear  mountain  home.  He  suddenl}^ 
heard  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet,  and,  looking  down 
across  the  plain,  he  saw  a  gay  party  of  horsemen. 
Their  armor  flashed  and  shone  in  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun,  and  their  long  white  plumes  waved  in 
the  gentle  evening  breeze. 

Cedric's  face  lighted  up  with  a  glad  smile,  for 
he  knew  that  it  was  Sir  Rollin  Dubois  and  his 
soldiers  returning  from  the  terrible  war  to  which 
the  King  had  sent  them.  They  soon  came  near 
enough  for  Cedric  to  see  their  faces,  as  the  heavy 
steel  visors^  of  their  helmets  were  lifted  so  that 
they  might  breathe  more  freely  the  soft  summer 
air.  It  had  been  a  warm  day,  and  Cedric  noticed 
that  even  the  tallest  knight  among  them  looked 
tired,  and  as  if  he  would  be  glad  to  get  to  the 
castle  and  lay  aside,  for  a  while  at  least,  his  heavy 
armor. 

Just  as  they  were  passing  the  door  in  which  Cedric 
stood,  one  of  them  stopped  his  horse,  and  leaning 
forward  said,  "Mj  little  man,  will  you  give  me  a 
drink  of  water  ? "  Cedric  ran  quickly  and  filled  a 
cup  with  fresh,  cool  water  from  the  spring  near  by, 
and  brought  it  to  the  knight.     ^' Thank  you,"   said 

^  vis'or,  front  piece  of  a  cap  or  helmet. 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.         61 

the  nobleman,  as  be  banded  tbe  cup  back  to  Cedric. 
'^1  am  very  glad  to  be  able  to  serve  you/'  said 
Cedric,  quietly.  Tbe  knight  smiled,  gathered  up  the 
reins  of  his  horse,  and  said,  "  You  are  as  courteous  ^ 
as  a  knight,  my  boy.'' 

That  evening  Cedric  told  his  mother  of  this  sec- 
ond speech,  and  then  he  asked,  as  a  wistfuP  look 
came  over  his  face,  ^'Ah,  mother  dear,  do  you  think 
I  can  ever  become  a  knight  ? " 

Weeks  passed  into  months  and  the  soft,  gray  snow 
clouds  had  covered  the  green  hills  with  the  white 
mantle  of  winter.  Whenever  Cedric  felt  like  being 
rude,  or  cross,  or  selfish,  he  thought  of  the  bright 
smile  on  the  great  knight's  face  that  summer  evening 
when  he  had  asked  for  the  cup  of  cold  water,  and 
he  felt  sure  the  smile  would  change  into  a  frown 
if  the  knight  should  see  him  do  a  discourteous^  or 
a  selfish  act. 

A  year  or  two  had  passed,  when  one  day  something 
happened  which  Cedric  never  forgot.  His  father 
came  in  from  his  work  and  said,  ''  Sir  Rollin  Dubois 
wants  a  young  lad  to  come  to  the  castle  to  take 
the  place  of  his  page  who  has  lately  been  promoted.* 
Do  you  think,  wife,  that  our  Cedric  is  strong  enough 
for  such  an  office?" 

1  cour'-te-ous,  polite. 

2  "wist'ful,  wishful ;  longing. 

3  dis-cour'te-ous,  impolite. 

*  pro-mot'ed,  advanced  in  station. 


62  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Cedric's  heart  almost  stopped  beating  while  he 
listened  for  his  mother's  answer.  She.  thought  for 
a  few  moments,  and  then  said  slowly,  as  if  weighing 
each  word,  "  Yes,  I  think  he  would  try  very  hard  to 
do  his  duty,  and  I  should  like  to  have  him  learn 
more  of  knighthood.  Perhaps  some  day  he  too  may 
be  a  knight,  who  knows?"  she  added,  as  she  turned 
smilingly  to  the  radiant  face  of  her  boy. 

That  very  afternoon  she  made  a  bundle  of  his  few 
clothes,  and  his  father  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
walked  with  him  up  the  steep  hill  to  the  great  castle 
gate.  Cedric  had  never  before  been  so  near  the 
castle,  and  when  his  father  lifted  the  heavy  iron 
knocker,  and  brought  it  down  with  two  or  three  loud 
knocks,  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  heart  was  knocking 
almost  as  loudly.  Not  that  he  was  afraid,  but  he 
was  stirred  by  the  thought  of  going  into  the  presence 
of  the  great  and  noble  Sir  Rollin,  whom  all  people 
loved  and  revered.^ 

The  huge  iron  gate  slowly  lifted.  The  drawbridge 
was  already  thrown  across  the  ditch  of  water  which 
surrounded  the  castle,  and  in  a  few  moments  Cedric 
and  his  father,  had  passed  under  the  stone  arch- 
way and  were  standing  within  the  courtyard.  A 
man  took  them  into  a  large  room  whose  walls  and 
floors  were  of  stone,  and  bade  them  sit  down  on  a 
wooden   bench  which  stood   near   a   door,  saying  at 

^  re-vered',  greatly  respected. 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A   KNIGHT.         63 

the  same  time,  "  I  will  tell  Sir  Rollin  that  you  are 
here." 

They  had  been  waiting  some  time  when  a  door  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room  opened,  and  a  large,  well- 
built  man,  who  looked  so  tall  and  straight  that  he 
reminded  Cedric  of  a  mountain  pine,  came  forward. 
He  was  not  dressed  in  armor,  but  Cedric  knew  at 
once  that  it  was  Sir  Rollin  Dubois.  The  knight 
talked  a  few  moments  with  Cedric's  father,  and  then, 
turning  to  Cedric,  he  said,  "And  you  think  you 
would  like  to  become  a  knight,  my  boy?  Are  you 
sure  that  you  will  not  mind  hard  work,  and  will 
remember  always  to  be  true  and  pure,  brave  and 
unselfish?'' 

Cedric's  smile  was  so  bright  that  no  answer  was 
needed.  The  knight  turned  again  to  his  father  and 
said,  "Do  you  realize  that  it  will  take  ten  years 
or  more  of  discipline  and  hard  work  on  the  part  of 
your  boy  before  he  can  hope  to  be  promoted  to  a 
position  of  responsibility?"^  "Yes,"  said  the  father, 
quietly,  "  but  I  think  he  is  willing  to  try  it." 

After  a  little  talk,  it  was  decided  that  the  boy 
should  begin  his  training  then  and  there.  So  his 
father  bade  him  good-by,  and  left.  Cedric  w^as 
taken  by  an  older  boy  up  some  stone  stairs  to  a 
small  room  whose  ceiling,  walls,  and  floor  were  of 
stone.     In  the  corner  of  the  room  lay  a  pile  of  straw^ 

^  re-spon-si-biri-ty,  trust ;  duty. 


64  A   FOURTH    READER. 

over  which  had  been  thrown  a  sheepskin.  At  one 
side  of  the  room  was  a  small  table.  No  other  fur- 
niture was  in  the  apartment  save  a  cedar  chest, 
which  was  doubtless  intended  to  serve  for  both  chair 
and  wardrobe. 

There  was  a  narrow,  pointed  window  in  one  side  of 
the  room  through  which  the  sunlight  came.  Cedric 
went  up  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  but  it  was 
so  high  that  he  could  see  only  the  blue  sky  and  a 
soft  white  cloud.  "Ah,"  thought  Cedric  to  him- 
self, "  I  can  at  least  see  the  stars  at  night  and  the 
sunlight  each  morning.  Will  they  not  remind  me 
always  of  the  good  God  who  watches  over  me?" 

That  night  his  supper  consisted  of  some  coarse 
barley  bread  and  a  bowl  of  broth.  Cedric,  however, 
was  used  to  simple  food,  and-  did  not  mind  this  part 
of  his  discipline.^  As  he  lay  down  upon  the  pile  of 
straw  and  drew  the  sheepskin  over  him,  he  thought 
of  his  nice  warm  bed  at  home;  but  instantly  came 
this  other  thought,  "  I  must  learn  to  be  hardy  and 
strong  if  I  am  ever  to  do  any  great  work  in  the 
world.  So  I  will  not  mind  such  little  discomforts 
as  these." 

Cedric  soon  found  that  he  had  not  only  to  eat 
coarse  food  and  sleep  on  a  hard  bed,  but  that  he 
had  to  practice  standing  very  straight,  running  very 
swiftly,  and  managing  a  horse;    to  jump  on  and  off 

^  dis'ci-pline,  training. 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.         65 

while  the  horse  was  in  full  gallop,  to  throw  his 
spear  with  unerring  accuracy/  and  also  that  he  must 
be  prompt  and  ready  to  obey  a  call  from  Sir  Rollin ; 
that  he  must  not  only  learn  to  do  errands  faith- 
fully and  quickly,  but  to  wait  patiently  and  quietly 
oftentimes  when  he  could  not  understand  why  he 
waited. 

Year  after  year  passed  by,  and  little  Cedric  had 
grown  large  and  tall.  When  he  visited  his  home 
he  used  often  to  laugh  at  the  little  bed  which  had 
once  held  him  so  cosily.  Not  only  had  he  grown 
strong  and  tall,  but  he  had  grown  even  more 
in  thoughtful  ness  and  courtesy  toward  all  about 
him. 

One  day  Sir  Rollin  sent  for  him.  "Cedric,"  said 
he,  "  I  wish  you  to  take  a  message  to  the  King.  It 
is  quite  an  important  one,  and  it  must  reach  him 
before  to-morrow  night.  Get  ready  as  quickly  as 
you  can.  Take  my  gray  horse,  as  he  is  the  swiftest 
one  in  the  stables,  and  remember  that  I  have  trusted 
you  much  by  sending  you  upon  this  errand." 

Cedric's  heart  beat  wild  with  joy  as  he  thought, 
"At  last  I  have  proved  faithful  enough  to  be  sent 
with  a  message  to  our  great  King."  He  was  ready 
in  less  than  half  an  hour,  and,  jumping  on  the 
splendid  gray  charger,  he  went  galloping  down  the 
highway.     On  and  on  he  rode. 

I  unerring  ac'cu-ra-cy,  true  aim. 


66 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


G.  W.  Watts. 
Jumping  on  the  splendid  gray  charger,  he  went  galloping 
down  the.  highway  "  (page  65). 


At  last  he 
entered  a 
thick  forest 
of  pine  trees. 
The  road 
grew  very 
dark  and 
lonesome. 

"  What 
if  I  should 
meet  some 
wild  beast  ?  " 
thought  Ce- 
dric ;  but  he 
added,  half 
aloud,  "li  I 
am  ever  to 
be  a  knight, 
I  must  learn 
to  be  brave, 
and  face 
every  dan- 
ger." 

It  was  not 
long  before 
he  was  quite 
sure  that  he 
heard  a  deep, 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.         67 


low  growl.  His  heart  beat  fast,  but  he  rode 
steadily  forward,  and  soon  the  growl  was  repeated, 
this  time  nearer  and  more  distinctly ;  and  Cedric 
saw  in  the  dim  light  a  great  wild  boar  coming  towards 
him. 

The  creature's  eyes  were  shining  like  fire,  and  his 
white  tusks  overhung  his  lower  jaw  in  a  fierce  and 
forbidding  fashion.  Cedric  knew  that  this  must  be 
the  beast  which  had  destroyed  so  many  of  the  cattle 
of  the  neighboring  peasants,  but  who  was  so  strong 
and  savage  that  no  one  had  dared  to  go  near  him. 
He  spurred  his  horse  forward  as  he  thought,  "  If  I 
kill  this  wild  boar,  I  shall  already  have  begun  to 
be  of  service  to  the  people  of  my  country."  So  he 
lifted  the  spear  which  he  carried  at  his  side  from 
its  leathern  socket,  and,  raising  it  high  in  the  air, 
hurled  it  swiftly  at  the  beast,  who  was  ready  to 
spring  upon    him. 

In  a  moment  more  the  wild  boar  rolled  over  upon 
the  ground  dead.  Cedric  reached  down  and  drew  his 
spear  from  its  side,  and  as  he  rode  on  again  he  thought, 
^^  Wolves  and  wild  boars  must  not  stop  the  way  of  a 
messenger  of  the  King.  I  must  fear  nothing  if  I  am 
to  be  a  knight." 

After  a  time  his  road  lay  out  of  the  forest  into 
the  sunlight.  As  he  approached  a  small  village  he 
heard  a  great  noise  as  of  much  shouting,  and  soon 
he    saw   a  group  of  boys  who  were    evidently  hoot- 


68  A  FOURTH   READER, 

ing  and  laughing  at  something  in  their  midst.  He 
rode  Lip  to  where  they  were,  and  felt  himself 
growing  indignant^  as  he  saw  an  old  deformed  man 
standing  in  their  midst,  at  whom  they  were 
jeering.^ 

In  a  moment  he  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  pressing 
through  the  crowd  of  boys  he  stood  beside  the  old 
man.  On  his  face  was  a  flush  of  indignant  anger. 
"How  dare  you/'  he  exclaimed,  "laugh  at  or  insult 
an  old  man  like  this?"  The  boys  drew  back  fright- 
ened. Although  he  was  really  no  taller  than  they, 
he  seemed  to  tower  above  them.  "  My  !  "  exclaimed 
one  of  them  in  a  whisper,  "  does  n't  he  look  like  a 
knight  as  he  stands  there?"  "I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  he  were  one,"  said  another. 

Cedric  turned  to  the  old  man,  who  was  trembling 
in  every  limb.  "Where  are  you  going?"  asked  he 
kindly.  "  Only  to  the  next  village,"  said  the  old 
man,  "but  these  boys  stopped  me  on  my  way.  I 
cannot  help  my  deformity^  nor  my  old  age.  I  wish 
I  could."  The  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 
"  Come,"  said  Cedric,  gently,  "  let  me  help  you 
upon  my  horse.  I,  too,  am  going  to  the  next 
village." 

When   they  had   reached  the  next  village^  Cedric 

^  in-dig'nant,  angry  with  cause. 

2  jeering,  mocking;  taunting. 

^  de-formlty,  unnatural  shape  or  form. 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.         69 

helped  the  old  man  from  the  horse  at  his  own  door. 
Then,  mounting,  he  thought  to  himself,  ''  I  am  very 
hungry;  I  think  I  will  stop  at  the  village  inn  and 
get  a  good  warm  supper.  No/'  said  he,  on  second 
thought,  ''  I  cannot  stop  now.  T  have  had  to  travel 
so  slowly  because  of  the  old  man  that  I  must  make 
up  for  lost  time."  With  that  he  tightened  the  rein 
of  his  beautiful  horse,  and  the  two  had  soon  left 
the  village  far  in  the  distance.  Cedric  reached  back 
to  a  leather  pouch  behind  him  and  took  from  it  a 
dry  biscuit,  which  had  to  serve  for  his  supper  that 
night. 

Late  in  the  evening  he  reached  the  house  at  which 
he  was  to  rest  his  horse,  and  he  himself  slept  for  a 
few  hours.  By  dawn  the  next  day  he  was  up  and 
off  on  his  journey.  As  he  was  riding  by  a  small 
stream  of  water  he  noticed  a  poor  little  fish  that 
some  thoughtless  fisherman  had  thrown  upon  the 
bank  as  too  insignificant  ^  to  be  taken  home  for  break- 
fast. The  tiny  creature  was  struggling  and  gasping 
for  breath  as  it  vainly  tried  to  get  back  into  the 
water.  ^^Ah!  you  poor  little  thing,"  thought  Cedric, 
'^I  wish  I  had  time  to  put  you  back  into  the  stream, 
but  I  haven't!"  and  so  he  rode  on. 

Then  came  the  thought,  "A  knight  would  take 
time  to  help  anything  that  was  suffering.  If  ever 
I   am  to  be  a   knight,    I    must  do  so,    too."      With 

1  in-sig-niri-cant,  small ;  worthless. 


70  A    FOURTH    READER. 


this  thought  he  turned,  and  was  soon  back  again  at 
the  spot  where  the  little  fish  lay.  He  got  down  off 
of  his  horse,  and,  taking  the  poor  creature  in  his 
hand  as  gently  as  possible,  he  stooped  down  and  put 
it  into  the  stream  of  water.  It  swam  rapidly  away 
as  if  glad,  beyond  words,  to  get  back  into  its  own 
element.^  Its  swiftly  moving  tail  seemed  to  Cedric, 
as  he  watched  it  for  a  moment,  to  say,  "  Thank  you, 
Cedric,  thank  you,  thank  you !  "  He  then  jumped 
on  his  horse  again  and  rode  on. 

The  day  grew  very  warm,  but  Cedric  knew  that 
he  must  not  stop  for  his  own  comfort ;  his  errand 
was  an  important  one,  and  he  must  reach  the  King's 
palace  before  night. 

At  last  the  beautiful  palace  came  in  sight,  and  in 
a  few  moments  Cedric  had  ridden  into  the  court- 
yard. He  gave  his  letter  to  a  servant  to  carry 
to  one  of  the  squires,  who  gave  it  to  a  courtier, 
who  presented  it  to  the  King;  for,  you  must  remem- 
ber, in  those  days  a  king  was  a  very  great  person, 
and  only  those  men  who  had  risen  high  in  rank 
could  approach  him. 

Among  other  things,  the  note  contained  this  mes- 
sage :  it  told  the  King  that  the  bearer  was  a  young 
lad  who  had  been  in  training  for  knighthood ;  that 
Sir  Rollin  had  found  him  always  brave  and  trust- 
worthy,   true    and   noble,    kind    and    courteous ;    and 

1  el'e-ment,  the  place  naturally  suited  for  any  creature's  existence. 


HOW    LITTLE    CEDRIC    BECAME    A    KNIGHT.         71 

that  he,  Sir  Rollin,  thought  if  the  King  wanted  him 
in  his  army,  he  would  find  him  worthy  of  the 
place. 

The  King  sent  for  Cedric  to  come  to  him  per- 
sonally. Our  little  boy  had  grown  into  a  tall  youth, 
you  know,  and  his  frank,  pure  face  was  good  to 
look  upon.  The  King  told  him  that  he  wished  to 
put  him  in  office  in  his  army;  and  thus  Cedric 
went  to  live  in  the  King's  household,  and  here  he 
learned  many  things  which  he  could  not  have  learned 
at  the  castle  of  Sir  RoUin  Dubois. 

Several  years  passed  by,  and  Cedric  had  been 
intrusted  with  many  enterprises  both  difficult  and 
dangerous.  At  last,  one  day,  the  King  sent  for 
him  to  come  into  the  throne  room.  There  sat  the 
King  upon  a  beautiful  throne  of  gold;  beside  him 
sat  the  Queen.  Over  their  heads  was  a  crimson  velvet 
canopy.'  Standing  about  the  room  was  a  great 
number  of  courtiers  and  grand  ladies.  As  Cedric 
entered  the  room,  the  King  said,  ^^  Come  forward!" 

Cedric  stepped  forward  and  kneeled  upon  one  knee 
before  the  throne,  as  was  the  custom  in  those  days. 
The  King  raised  his  beautiful  golden  scepter  ^  and 
struck  Cedric  lightly  upon  the  shoulder  with  it,  saying, 
at  the  same  time,  ^^Rise,  Sir  Cedric  of  Altholstane." 
l^nd  Cedric  knew  that  he  was  at  last  a  knight! 

can'o-py,  an  ornamental  covering. 
2  scep'ter,  a  staff  borne  by  a  ruler  as  an  emblem  of  his  power. 


72 


A   FOURTH   READER. 


In  time  he  had  a  beautiful  castle  of  his  own,  and 
splendid  armor,  and  a  beautiful  black  horse.  The 
handsome  horse  used  to  prance  and  toss  his  head 
'  proudly  in  the  air,  as  if  he  knew  what  a  noble 
young  knight  he  was  carrying.  After  a  while  Cedric 
had  a  lovely  wife  and  three  sweet  little  children  of 
his  own;  and,  as  he  rode  abroad  over  the  country, 
many  a  time  the  peasants,  standing  in  their  cottage 
doors,  would  say  to  one  another,  "  There  goes  the 
brave  Sir  Cedric  of  Altholstane.  God  bless  him ! 
May  he  live  long  to  help  protect  our  country !  " 
And   all  the  people  loved  him. 


XII.     A   VISIT   FROM   SAINT   NICHOLAS. 

By  Clement  C.  Moore. 

WAS  the  night  before   Christmas, 
when  all  through  the  house 
Not  a  creature  was  stirring,  not 
even  a  mouse; 
The    stockings   were    hung    by   the 
chimney  with  care. 
In  hopes  that  Saint  Nicholas  soon  would  be  there ; 
The  children  were  nestled  all  snug  in  their  beds,     i 
While   visions   of   sugarplums   danced   through  their 
heads; 


A    VISIT    FROM    SAINT    NICHOLAS.  73 

And  mamma  in  her  kerchief,  and  I  in  my  cap, 
Had    just    settled    our    brains    for    a    long    winter's 

nap,  — 
When  out  on  the  lawn  there  arose  such  a  clatter, 
I  sprang  from  the  bed  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
Away  to  the  window  I  flew  like  a  flash. 
Tore  open  the  shutters,  and  threw  up  the  sash; 
The  moon,  on  the  breast  of  the  new-fallen  snow, 
Gave  a  luster  of  midday  to  objects  below; 
When,  what  to  my  wondering  eyes  should  appear 
But  a  miniature^  sleigh  and  eight  tiny  reindeer, 
With  a  little  old  driver,  so  lively  and  quick, 
I  knew  in  a  moment  it  must  be  Saint  Nick! 
More  rapid  than  eagles  his  coursers^  they  came. 
And   he  whistled   and   shouted   and  called  them  by 

name : 
"  Now    Dasher !    now    Dancer !    now   Prancer !    now 

Vixen ! 
On,  Comet !    on,  Cupid !    on,  Donder  and  Blitzen ! 
To  the  top  of  the  porch !   to  the  top  of  the  wall ! 
Now  dash  away,  dash  away,  dash  away,  all !  " 
As  dry  leaves  that  before  the  wild  hurricane  fly, 
When   they  meet   with   an   obstacle,^  mount   to   the 

sky, 
So,  up  to  the  housetop  the  coursers  they  flew. 
With  a  sleigh  full  of  toys,  —  and  Saint  Nicholas,  too. 

^  min'-i-a-ture,  very  small.      ^  cours'ers,  horses  usually,  here  reindeer. 
^  ob'sta-cle,  something  in  the  way. 


74  A    FOURTH    READER. 

And  then,  in  a  twinkling,  I  heard  on  the  roof 
The  prancing  and  pawing  of  each  little  hoof. 
As  I  drew  in  my  head  and  was  turning  around, 
Down    the    chimney    Saint    Nicholas    came    with    a 

bound. 
He   was   dressed    all    in   fur   from   his   head    to    his 

foot, 
And  his  clothes  w^ere  all  tarnished^  with  ashes  and 

soot; 
A  bundle  of  toys  he  had  flung  on  his  back. 
And  he  looked  like  a  peddler  just  opening  his  pack. 
His    eyes,   how    they    twinkled !     His    dimples,    how 

merry ! 
His  cheeks  were  like  roses,  his  nose  like  a  cherry; 
His  droll  little  mouth  was  drawm  up  like  a  bow. 
And   the   beard    on   his   chin   was    as   white    as  the 

snow ; 
The  stump  of  a  pipe  he  held  tight  in  his  teeth, 
And  the  smoke,  it  encircled  his  head  like  a  wreath. 
He  was  chubby  and  plump,  a  right  jolly  old  elf; 
And  I  laughed  when  I  saw  him,  in  spite  of  myself. 
A  wink  of  his  eye  and  a  twist  of  his  head 
Soon  gave  me  to  know  I  had  nothing  to  dread. 
He    spake    not    a    word,   but   went    straight    to    his 

work, 
And    filled    all    the    stockings ;    then    turned    with    a 

jerk, 

1  tar'nished,  soiled. 


LANGUAGE.  75 


And,  laying  his  finger  aside  of  his  nose, 
And  giving  a  nod,  —  up  the  chimney  he  rose. 
He  sprang  to  his  sleigh,  to  his  team  gave  a  whistle, 
And  away  they  all  flew  like  the  down  of  a  thistle ; 
But  I  heard  him  exclaim,  ere  he  drove  out  of  sight, 
"  Merry  Christmas  to  All,  and  to  All  a  Good- 
night ! " 


XIII.     LANGUAGE. 

DID  you  ever  think  how  many  parts  of  the  human 
body  you  use  when  you  speak  a  word  ?  If  not, 
you  will  find  it  interesting.  Try  it.  While  you  are 
speaking,  see  if  you  can  detect  how  many  different 
organs^  and  muscles  you  use.  As  you  doubtless 
know,  the  voice  is  made  by  the  breath ;  so  you 
must  think  first  of  the  organs  which  we  use  in 
breathing.  In  order  to  speak,  that  is,  to  give  out 
breath,  we    must    first    take  the   air  in. 

The  lungs,  you  know,  are  called  the  organs  of 
breathing;  they  are  placed  in  the  chest,  and  are 
very  much  like  a  great  sponge.  They  are  soft,  and 
full  of  countless  holes  and  passages  of  different  sizes, 
some  being  so  small  that  they  cannot  be  seen  with 
the  naked  eye,  and  all  of  them  are  filled  with  air 
when  we  draw  in  a  breath. 

1  origans,  parts  or  members  of  the  body. 


76  A    FOURTH    READER. 


But  how  do  we  draw  in  a  breath  ?  Ah,  that  is 
another  question.  We  sometimes  speak  of  taking 
air  into  the  lungs,  as  if  we  took  hold  of  it  and 
pulled  it  in ;  but  that  is  not  the  way  it  is  done. 
We  simply  make  a  place  for  it,  and  the  air  itself 
is  pushed  in  by  its  own  weight.  It  is  in  mak- 
ing this  place  for  the  air  that  we  use  so  many 
muscles. 

Nearly  all  of  the  muscles  of  the  trunk,  from  the 
hips  to  the  throat,  are  used  in  breathing.  Those  of 
the  loins  and  sides,  back  and  chest,  and  also  of  the 
diaphragm,  which  is  a  sort  of  partition  passing  across 
the  body  and  shutting  the  organs  of  the  chest  from 
those  of  the  abdomen,  —  all  these  take  part  in 
breathing. 

First,  they  spread  themselves  out  so  as  to  make 
room  for  the  air.  Put  your  hand  on  your  body, 
draw  in  a  long  breath,  and  you  will  feel  the  muscles 
swelling.  The  air  rushes  in  and  fills  every  space 
that  rt  can  reach.  The  more  room  it  has  to  fill, 
the  better;  That  is  one  reason  why  tight  clothes 
are  not  healthful ;  they  do  not  allow  us  to  swell 
out  our  bodies  and  take  in  all  the  air  that  we 
nefed. 

When  the  lungs  are  filled  with  air,  and  the  air 
has  taken  all  the  bad  matter  from  the  blood,  then 
we  want  to  drive  it  out  again.  So  we  draw  the 
muscles    together,    and    that   squeezes    or   forces   the 


LANGUAGE.  77 


air  out.  Now,  put  your  hands  upon  your  sides, 
take  in  a  long  breath,  and  see  how  the  muscles 
swell.  Then  breathe  it  out,  and  see  how  they  are 
drawn  together. 

All  this  is  breathing,  you  will  say,  and  not  talking. 
That  is  true;  but,  so  far,  you  do  the  same  things 
in  talking  that  you  do  in  breathing.  This  action 
of  the  muscles  in  breathing  goes  on  without  our 
thinking  or  knowing  anything  about  it.  The  air 
enters  the  lungs  without  making  any  noise,  and  goes 
out  as  quietly ;  but,  if  we  wish,  we  can  use  certain 
other  muscles,  so  that  the  breath,  when  it  goes  out, 
will  make  a  noise,  which  we  call  voice. 

There  are  in  the  throat  two  cords,  or  strips,  called 
vocal  cords,  over  which  the  breath  passes.  If  we 
wish,  we  can  draw  these  so  tight  that  when  the 
breath  passes  over  them  they  will  vibrate  and  pro- 
duce a  sound.  Did  you  ever  make  a  noise  by  blow- 
ing upon  a  blade  of  grass  or  a  thin  piece  of  rubber  ? 
Well,  voice  is  caused  in  very  much  the  same  way. 
But  the  blade  of  grass  and  the  piece  of  rubber 
each  make  only  a  single  sound,  while  the  human 
voice  can  make  many  thousands  of  different  sounds. 

There  are,  therefore,  many  organs  used  in  making 
voice  besides  the  vocal  cords  and  those  used  in 
breathing.  So  notice  again,  as  you  are  speaking,  and 
see  if  you  cannot  tell  what  other  organs  you  use. 
There   are   tlie  palate,   at  the  top  of  the  throat,  and 


78  A    FOURTH    READER. 


the  teeth,  which  change  the  direction  of  the  breath 
and  the  character  of  the  sound  it  makes.  There 
are  the  lips,  which  shut  it  off  or  let  it  pass,  and, 
by  the  form  we  give  them,  make  new  sounds 
continually. 

The  shape  of  the  mouth  has  much  to  do  with 
the  quality  of  voice ;  but  the  one  organ  which  more 
than  any  other  causes  the  different  sounds  which 
we  make  with  our  voices,  is  the  tongue.  Try  it 
and  see.  Try  to  hold  your  tongue  still,  and  see  liow^ 
impossible  it  is  to  talk.  So  much  does  the  tongue 
have  to  do  with  making  voice  that  people  some- 
times speak  as  if  it  were  the  only  organ  used  for 
that  purpose. 

•The  very  words  we  use  are  often  called  tongue, 
as  when  we  say  "  Hans's  mother  tongue  is  Ger- 
man," meaning  that  German  is  spoken  in  his  mother 
country. 

We  say  ^^John  uses  bad  language,"  meaning  that 
he  speaks  words  that  he  ought  not  to  speak.  Or 
we  say  that  ^^  Henry's  language  is  correct,"  meaning 
that  he  uses  the  words  that  he  should  use.  But 
language  means  the  same   thing  as  tongue. 

So  that,  from  this  one  little  organ  which  is  in 
our  mouths,  men  have  named  all  that  they  speak. 
The  apostle  James,  in  the  Bible,  says,  ''  The  tongue 
can  no  man  tame,"  meaning  that  it  is  very  hard 
for  us  not  to  say  what  we  should  not. 


THE   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE.  79 


We  study  language,  or  the  tongue,  in  school  more 
than  any  other  branch,  because  it  is  necessary  for 
us  to  be  able  to  use  some  language  in  order  to  ex- 
press our  thoughts  to  one  another.  You  know  that 
language  is  one  of  the  gifts  that  people  have  which 
beasts  do  not  have ;  for,  though  beasts  have  tongues, 
they  cannot  use  them  to  pronounce  words.  So  you 
need  to  have  very  great  respect  for  your  tongue. 
Use  it  so  as  not  to  disgrace  it. 


XIV.     THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE. 

WHAT  language  do  you  speak  ?  Most  of  us 
speak  the  English  language.  This  means 
that  the  words  we  use  are  English  words.  This  book 
is  written  in  the  English  language.  Most  of  the 
books  that  we  .use  in  school,  or  that  we  shall  read, 
are  written  in  the  same  language. 

The  English  language  is  spoken  in  England ;  it 
is  the  language  of  the  English  people.  But  it  is 
spoken  in  many  other  countries  besides  England,  as 
in  America  and  Australia.  Can  you  tell  why  we 
in  America  speak  the  language  that  is  spoken  in 
England  rather  than  that  which  is  spoken  in  Ger- 
many or  France,  or  rather  than  a  language  of  our 
own? 


80  A    FOURTH    READER. 

As  you  probably  know,  when  Columbus  discovered 
America,  he  found  here  savages  like  the  Indians  .of 
our  Western  plains.  They  had  their  own  language, 
but  it  was  a  savage  tongue.  In  time,  many  people 
came  from  the  different  countries  of  Europe,  —  from 
England  and  Ireland,  from  France  and  Spain,  from 
Italy  and  Germany,  and  from  many  other  lands,  to 
live  in  tliis  new  country  which  Columbus  had  dis- 
covered. 

They  all  spoke  the  languages  of  the  different 
countries  from  which  they  came;  and  so,  for  a  long 
time,  the  Spanish  language  was  spoken  in  one  part 
of  what  is  now  the  United  States,  the  French  in  an- 
other, and  the  English  language  in  still  another. 

But,  after  a  while,  the  French  and  the  English  colo- 
nists had  a  war,  in  which  the  English  were  successful ; 
so  their  language  w^as  made  that  of  all  the  country 
which  they  owned.  Besides,  most  of  the  people  who 
fought  against  England  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution 
were  themselves  English,  and  spoke  the  English 
language. 

So  that  the  thirteen  colonies  of  the  new  country, 
when  they  became  the  United  States,  all  spoke  the 
English  language;  and  when,  later,  that  portion  of 
the  country  where  Spanish  was  spoken  became  part 
of  the  United  States,  the  English  speech  became  the 
language  of  these  people  also. 

In  this  way  English  came  to  be  the  language  which 


THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  81 

we  speak ;  and  now,  even  if  the  Germans,  or  French, 
or  Spaniards  come  to  this  country,  they  cannot  get 
along  with  their  mother  tongue;  they  must  learn 
the  English  language,  because  nearly  everybody  here 
speaks  it,  and  they  cannot  do  business  without  it. 

Did  you  ever  wonder  how  the  English  language 
came  to  be  spoken  in  England  ?  Well,  that  is  another 
story.  You  will  learn  all  about  it  some  day.  I 
will  tell  you  just  a  little  now.  Years  and  years  ago, 
in  the  country  that  is  now  England,  but  which  was 
then  called  Britain,  there  lived  a  people  who  were 
almost  as  wild  and  savage  as  our  Indians.  They 
spoke  a  strange  tongue,  of  which  you  could  not  under- 
stand a  v^ord  if  you  were  to  hear  it. 

By  and  by,  an  army  of  soldiers  came  by  sea  from 
Rome,  in  Italy.  That  country  you  can  find  on  your 
maps,  away  down  on  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  These 
soldiers  made  war  on  the  poor  savages,  and  conquered 
many  of  them  ;  but  they  could  not  conquer  them  all, 
nor  could  they  conquer  their  language. 

After  a  time  the  Romans  went  away,  and  still  the 
people  of  Britain  spoke  their  strange  language.  Then, 
many  years  after,  another  army  came  across  the  sea 
from  Denmark,  and  conquered  the  poor  savages ;  but 
even  they  could  not  conquer  their  language.  The 
people  of  Britain  still  spoke  as  they  had  spoken  before. 

Still  later,  another  people  living  in  the  North  of 
Europe,  in  what  is  now  a  part  of  the  German  Em- 


82  A    FOURTH    READER. 


pire,  learned  of  the  beautiful  island  across  the  sea, 
and  wanted  it.  So  they  came  in  their  war  ships, 
thousand  and  thousands  of  them,  and  made  war  upon 
the  people  living  in  Britain. 

These  new  comers  were  themselves  savages,  —  wild, 
and  fierce,  and  brave.  They  were  strong,  and  fond 
of  the  sea.  They  had  fair  complexions,  and  long 
yellow  hair  which  hung  down  upon  their  shoulders, 
and  were  very  fierce  to  look  upon. 

When  they  conquered  the  people  of  Britain,  they 
settled  down  and  made  for  themselves  homes  there, 
and  their  language  became  the  language  of  all  the 
people  of  the  island  except  a  few,  some  of  whom  went 
over  to  Ireland,  but  more  to  the  mountainous  region 
of  Wales.  The  language  of  the  Welsh  to-day  is  said 
to  be  that  which  the  early  savages  of  Britain  spoke. 

These  strangers  from  the  North  of  Europe  were 
called  Angles,  and  from  their  name  the  name  England 
(Angle-land)  comes.  So  this  is  the  way  the  English 
language  began.  But  if  some  of  those  barbarian 
warriors  could  come  here  into  your  schoolroom  and 
speak  to  you,  you  would  not  know  that  they  were 
talking  English.  Their  language  would  sound  very 
differently  from  that  which  you  speak.  They  would 
use  many  words  which  you  do  not  use  ;  they  would 
not  speak  many  words  which  you  do  use  now;  and 
the  English  words  that  they  used  they  would  pro- 
nounce   very    differently  from  our  present  way      Be- 


THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  83 


cause,  although  their  language  became  English,  it  was, 
after  all,  only  the  beginning  of  the  language.  Many, 
many  wo^ds  have  been  added  to  it  from  other  lan- 
guages since. 

So  that  the  English  language  which  we  speak  is 
really  made  up  of  words  from  many  languages,  and 
that  is  one  reason  w^hy  it  is  spoken  in  more  and 
more  places  every  year;  and  is  also  the  reason  why 
many  people  believe  that  at  some  time  the  English 
language  w^ill  be  that  of  the  world. 

For  many  years  after  the  Angles  came  to  Britain 
and  called  it  Angleland,  or  England,  there  were  no 
books  written.  Children  did  not  have  to  study 
grammar,  and  people  pronounced  as  they  pleased. 
So  that  the  English  language  became  quite  different 
in  different  parts  of  England. 

But,  by  and  by,  people  began  to  write  books ;  then 
the  printing  press  was  invented,  ^nd  books  began  to 
be  printed ;  and  people  who  wrote  and  printed  books 
gradually  came  to  use  the  same  words,  until,  at  length, 
a  grammar  was  made,  —  so  that  the  English  language, 
instead  of  being  different  for  different  people,  became 
one. 

As  the  people  read  the  books  that  were  printed, 
they  began  to  use  the  words  that  the  books  con- 
tained. Thus  we  see  that  books  made  the  English 
language  what  it  is.  Probably  the  book  that  did 
more  than  any  other  toward  this  result  was  the  Bible. 


84  A    FOURTH    READER. 


XV.     PRINTING. 

WE  all  read  books  and  papers  every  day,  and 
never  stop  to  think  how  they  are  made. 
Every  morning,  thousands  and  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  newspapers  are  taken  from  the  printing 
presses,  and  sent  throughout  the  country. 

Every  week,  many  thousands  of  magazines,  of  all 
kinds,  are  sent  out,  and  so  many  books  are  printed 
every  year  that  one  would  have  to  be  very  good 
indeed  in  arithmetic  to  count  them. 

These  books  and  papers  are  printed  on  great 
machines,  —  very  wonderful  machines,  so  wonderful 
that  they  almost  seem  to  know  what  they  are 
doing. 

The  words  are  first  set  up  in  type,  as  it  is  called. 
Little  pieces  of  metal,  with  letters  on  the  ends, 
are  arranged  in  great  cases.  Men  take  these  and 
spell  out  the  words  with  them,  arranging  them  in 
proper  order  in  frames. 

The  words  so  set  up  are  placed  on  the  printing 
presses,  where  they  are  covered  with  ink,  and  the 
sheets  of  paper  passed  over  them  and  printed.  This 
is  all  done  by  machinery. 

In  some  great  offices,  even  the  type  is  set  by 
machinery.  There  are  vessels  containing  melted 
metal.       The    man   who   works    the    machine    plays 


PRINTING. 


85 


upon  keys  as  a  typewriter  does,  these  keys  having 
letters  printed  on  them.  When  he  strikes  one  key 
a  little  bit  of  the  melted  metal  is  dropped  into  a 
mold   having  the  proper  letter  formed  in  it. 

When  the  metal  becomes  cool  it  is  hardened  into 
type  with  the  letter  stamped  upon   the  end.     When 


AN  OLD-TIME  PRINTING  PRESl 


enough  of  this  type  has  been  made  to  form  a  line, 
the  machine  puts  it  into  the  proper  place,  and  soon 
the  case  of  type  is  ready  to  be  taken  to  the  printing 
machine. 

From  this  type  the  paper  is  printed,  and  then  is 
folded  by  the  machine.  So  rapidly  is  this  done  that 
many  thousands  of  sheets  can  be  printed  in  a  single 


86  A    FOURTH    READER. 


hour ;    so    it  is   no   wonder    that   books    and    papers 
are  cheap  and  abundant. 

Six  hundred  years  ago  there  were  no  printed  books 
in  Europe,  and  books  of  any  kind  were  very  scarce. 
They  were  only  to  be  found  in  a  few  great  libra- 
ries, usually  belonging  to  the  Church,  or  located  in 
some  monastery.  Only  a  few  churches  had  even 
a  Bible,  and  those  churches  which  had  one  Bible 
often  chained  it  down  so  that  it  could  not  be  taken 
away. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  books  were  very  scarce  and 
very  dear,  for  every  one  had  to  be  written  by  hand. 
In  the  great  universities  and  other  places  where 
it  was  necessary  to  have  some  books,  there  were 
always  people  whose  business  it  was  to  write  them 
by  hand. 

It  is  not  known  when  printing  from  type  was 
first  invented,  or  who  invented  it.  In  China  and 
Japan  the  art  was  practiced  long  before  it  was 
known  in  Europe,  but  people  did  not  travel  then 
as  they  do  now ;  very  few  ever  went  to  China,  and 
nations  did  not  learn  from  one  another  as  modern 
nations  do. 

The  Europeans  invented  the  art  of  printing  for 
themselves.  The  people  of  several  cities  claim  that 
the  first  printing  was  done  in  their  city,  by  one  of 
their  own  citizens,  and  probably  we  shall  never 
know  who,  in  truth,  was  the  first  printer. 


PRINTING. 


87 


One  story  is  told  by  the  people  of  Haarlem,  a  city 
in  Holland.  They  say  that  an  old  gentleman  named 
Laurens  Coster  was  one  day  walking  in  the  woods 
w^hen  he  picked  up  a  smooth  piece  of  the  bark  of  a 
beech  tree,  and  with  his  knife  carved  on  it  some 
letters.  These  he  took  home  and  gave  to  his  boy  as 
a  copy.  Afterward  he  put  some  ink  on  the  letters 
and  stamped  the  words  he  had  cut  upon  paper. 

This  pleased  him  so  much  that  he  began  to  make 
experiments,  and  finally  made  some  type  of  lead,  and 
then  some  of  zinc,  and  began  to  do  printing.  But 
one  of  his  apprentices,  who  was  dishonest,  stole   the 


88 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


o 


PRINTING.  89 


old  gentleman's  type,  and  ran  away  to  Germany ; 
and  from  that  man  the  Germans  learned  the  art  of 
printing.  The  people  of  Haarlem  believe  this  story, 
and  have  put  a  statue  of  Coster  in  the  market 
place.  The  Germans  say  the  story  is  not  true,  but 
that  one  of  their  own  people  was  the  first  printer. 

They  say  that  at  the  time  when  Coster  is  said 
to  have  been  making  his  type  in  Holland,  a  German 
named  Johannes  ^  Gutenberg  was  working  at  the  same 
thing  in  the  city  of  Strasburg,  and  succeeded  in 
making  a  metal  type. 

He  had  a  partner,  and  they  were  bound  by  solemn 
oaths  not  to  tell  any  one  what  they  were  doing ;  but 
the  partner  died,  and  his  heirs  sued  Gutenberg  in 
the  courts,  trying  to  compel  him  to  tell  the  secrets 
of  his  new  art.  Gutenberg  won  his  case,  but  during 
the  trial  it  became  known  that  he  had  been  work- 
ing at  a  new  method  of  making  cheap  books. 

Gutenberg  spent  all  his  money  in  his  experiments, 
and  finally  went  down  the  Rhine  to  the  city  of 
Mainz,  where  he  interested  in  his  work  a  rich  man 
named  Johann  ^  Fust,  and  took  him  as  a  partner. 

They  had  a  man  working  for  them  named  Schoffer, 
who,  like  Coster's  apprentice,  was  dishonest,  and 
told  Fust  they  could  do  better  without  Gutenberg. 
So  Fust  took  all  poor  Gutenberg's  tools  in  pay- 
ment for  money  he  had  lent  him,  and  with  Schdffer 

*  and  2  Johannes  and  Johann  are  German  for  John. 


90  A    FOURTH    READER. 

as  a  partner  began  to  do  printing.  But  Gutenberg 
was  still  able  to  keep  at  his  work,  so  there  were  two 
printing  houses  in  Mainz. 

The  people  of  both  Strasburg  and  Mainz  are 
very  proud  of  the  fact  that  Gutenberg,  the  first 
printer  as  they  say,  worked  in  their  cities,  and 
each  one  Jias  set  up  a  statue  in  his  honor. 

A  few  years  after  Gutenberg  had  printed  his  first 
book  in  Germany,  a  man  named  William  Caxton 
began  to  print  books  in  England.  He  probably 
learned  the  art  from  the  Germans. 

Caxton' s  printing  office  was  in  the  famous  Westmin- 
ster Abbey.  In  one  of  his  books.  The  Life  of  Charles 
the  Great,  he  says  :  "  I  have  specially  reduced  it  after 
the  simple  cunning  that  God  has  left  to  me  whereof  I 
heartily  and  with  all  my  heart  thank  Him,  and  also 
pray  for  my  father's  and  mother's  souls,  that  in  my 
youth  sent  me  to  school,  by  w^hich,  by  the  sufferance 
of  God,  I  get  my  living  I  hope  truly." 

These  early  printers  printed  books  of  many  kinds, 
but  chiefly  Bibles  and  religious  works. 

After  Caxton' s  death,  one  of  his  printers  who 
continued  the  work  said  he  hoped  for  "  the  happy 
day  when  a  Bible  should  be  chained  in  every  church 
for  every  Christian  man  to  look  upon." 

It  would  surely  have  made  these  good  men  very 
happy  if  they  could  have  seen  into  the  future,  when 
Bibles  would  be  sold  for  a  few  cents  each. 


THE   PLANTING  OF   THE   APPLE   TREE.  91 


XVI.    THE    PLANTING    OF    THE    APPLE    TREE. 


I   / 


By  William  Cullen  Bryant. 

OME,    let    US     plant     the 

apple  tree. 
Cleave  ^  the   tough    green- 
sward^ with  the  spade; 
Wide  let  its  hollow  bed  be  made; 
There  gently  lay  the  roots,  and  there 
Sift  the  dark  mold^  with  kindly  care, 

And  press  it  o'er  them  tenderly, 
As  round  the  sleeping  infant's  feet 
We  softly  fold  the  cradle  sheet ; 
So  plant  we  the  apple  tree. 


^  cleave,  cut  apart. 

2  green'sward,  grassy  lawn  or  field. 

3  mold,  soil ;  earth. 


92  A    FOURTH    READER. 

What  plant  we  in  this  apple  tree  ? 
Buds,  which  the  breath,  of  summer  days 
Shall  lengthen  into  leafy  sprays; 
Boughs  where  the  thrush,  with  crimson  breast, 

Shall  haunt,  and  sing,  and  hide  her  nest ; 

We  plant,  upon  the  sunny  lea, 
A  shadow  for  the  noontide  hour, 
A  shelter  from  the  summer  shower, 
When  we  plant  the  apple  tree. 

What  plant  we  in  this  apple  tree  ? 
Sweets  for  a  hundred  flowery  springs. 
To  load  the  Maiy  wind's  restless  wings. 
When,  from  the  orchard    row,  he  pours 
Its  fragrance  through  our  open  doors ; 

A  world  of  blossoms  for  the  bee. 
Flowers  for  the  sick  girl's  silent  room, 
For  the  glad  infant  sprigs  of  bloom. 

We  plant  with  the  apple  tree. 

What  plant  we  in  this  apple  tree  ? 
Fruits  that  shall  swell  in  sunny  June, 
And  redden  in  the  August  noon. 
And  drop,  when  gentle  airs  come  by, 
That  fan  the  blue  September  sky. 

While  children  come,  with  cries  of  glee, 
And  seek  them  where  the  fragrant  grass 
Betrays   their  bed  to  those  who  pass, 

At  the  foot  of  the  apple  tree. 


THE    PLANTING   OF    THE    APPLE    TREE.  93 

And  when^  above  this  apple  tree, 
The  winter  stars  are  quivering  bright, 
The  winds  go  howling  through  the  night, 
Girls,  wdiose  young  eyes  o'erflow  with  mirth, 
Shall  peel  its  fruit  by  cottage  hearth, 

And  guests  in  prouder  homes  shall  see, 

Heaped  with  the  grape  of  Cintra's^  vine. 

And   golden    orange   of    the 

line,^ 

The    fruit    of    the     apple 
tree. 

The  fruitage  of  this  apple 
tree, 
Winds  and  our  flag  of  stripe  and  star 
Shall  bear  to  coasts  that  lie  afar, 
Where  men  shall  wonder  at  the  view, 
And  ask  in  what  fair  groves  they  grew ; 

And  sojourners^  beyond  the  sea 
Shall  think  of  childhood's  careless  day, 
And  long,  long  hours  of  summer  play, 

In  the  shade  of  the  apple  tree. 

Each  year  shall  give  this  apple  tree 
A  broader  flush  of  roseate*  bloom, 
A  deeper  maze^  of  verdurous^  gloom, 

^  Cin'tra,  a  town  in  Portugal.  *  ro'se-ate,  rose-colored. 

2  "  the  line,"  the  equator.  ^  maze,  a  tangled  masSi 

8  so'journ-ers,  dwellers.  6  ver'dur-ous,  Ieafy» 


94  A    FOURTH    READER. 


And  loosen,  when  the  frost-clouds  lower, 
The  crisp  brown  leaves  in  thicker  shower. 

The  years  shall  come  and  pass,  but  we 
Shall  hear  no  longer,  where  we  lie, 
The  summer's  songs,  the  autumn's  sigh, 

In  the  boughs  of  the  apple  tree. 

And  time  shall  waste  this  apple  tree. 
Oh,  when  its  aged  branches  throw 
Thin  shadows  on  the  ground  below. 
Shall  fraud  and  force  and  iron  will 
Oppress  the  weak  and  helpless  still  ? 

What  shall  the  tasks  of  mercy  be. 
Amid  the  toils,  the  strifes,  the  tears 
Of  those  who  live  when  length  of  years 

Is  wasting  this  apple  tree  ? 

^^Who  planted  this  old  apple  tree?" 
The  children  of  that  distant  day 
Thus  to  some  aged  man  shall  say; 
And,  gazing  on  its  mossy  stem. 
The  gray-haired  man  shall  answer  them : 

"  A  poet  of  the  land  was  he. 
Born  in  the  rude  but  good  old  times  ;. 
'  T  is  said  he  made  some  quaint  ^  old  rhymes 

On  planting  the  apple  tree." 

i  quaint,  queer. 


THE    SONG    OF    THE    SOWER.  95 


XVII.     THE    SONG    OF   THE    SOWER. 

By  William  Cullen  Bryant. 

HE  maples  redden  in  the  sun; 

In  autumn  gold  the  beeches  stand ; 
Rest,  faithful  plow !    thy  work  is  done 

Upon  the  teeming^  land. 
Bordered  with  trees  whose  gay  leaves  fly 
On  every  breath  that  sweeps  the  sky, 
The  fresh  dark  acres  furrowed  lie, 
And  ask  the  sower's  hand. 

Loose  the  tired  steer,  and  let  him  go 
To  pasture  where  the  gentians  blow; 
And  we  who  till  the  grateful  ground, 
Fling  we  the  golden  shower  around. 

Fling  wide  the  generous  grain ;   we  fling 
O'er  the  dark  mold  the  green  of  spring. 
For  thick  the  emerald^  blades  shall  grow 
When  first  the  March  winds  melt  the  snow, 
And  to  the  sleeping  flowers  below 
The  early  bluebirds  sing. 

Fling  wide  the  grain;    we  give  the  fields 
The  ears  that  nod  in  summer  gale, 

1  teem'ing,  fruitful.  2  em'er-ald,  green. 


96 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


J.  P.  MttLET. 


THE   SOWER. 


THE   SONG    OF    THE    SOWER.  97 


The  shining  stems  that  summer  gilds, 
The  harvest  that  o'erflows  the  vale, 
And  swells,  an  amber  ^  sea,  between 
The  full-leaved  woods  —  its  shores  of  green. 

Hark!    from  the  murmuring  clods  I  hear 
Glad  voices  of  the  coming  year, — 
The  song  of  him  who  binds  the  grain, 
The  shout  of  those  that  load  the  wain,^ 
And  from  the  distant  grange  there  comes 

The  clatter  of  the  thresher's  flail,^ 
And  steadily  the  millstone  hums 

Down  in  the  willowy*  vale.^ 

And  strew  ^  with  free  and  joyous  sweep 

The  seed  upon  the  expecting  soil. 
For  hence  the  plenteous  year  shall  heap 

The  garners'^  of  the  men  who  toil. 
Strew  the  bright  seed  for  those  who  tear 
The  matted  sward ^  with  spade  and  share; 
And  those  whose  sounding  axes  gleam 
Beside  the  lonely  forest  stream 

Till  its  broad  banks  lie  bare; 

1  am'ber,  yellow. 

2  Tvain,  wagon. 

3  flail,  a  rude  instrument,  consisting  of  two  sticks  fastened  together 
loosely  at  one  end,  which  farmers  formerly  used  for  beating  out  grain. 

*  willow-y,  covered  with  willow  trees. 

^  vale,  valley.  "^  gar'ners,  storehouses  or  granaries. 

<>  strew,  scatter.         .  ^  sward,  grassy  surface. 


98  A    FOURTH    READER. 


And  him  who  breaks  the  quarry  ledge 

With  hammer  blows  plied  ^  quick  and  strong, 

And  him  who  with  the  steady  sledge 
Smites  the  shrill  anvil  all  day  long. 

.  Sprinkle  the  furrow's  even  trace 

For  those  whose  toiling  hands  uprear 
The  roof-trees  of  our  swarming  race, 

By  grove  and  plain,  by  stream  and  mere ; 
Who  forth,  from  crowded  city,  lead 

The  lengthening  street,  and  overlay 
Green  orchard-plot  and  grassy  mead 

With  pavement  of  the  murmuring  way. 
Cast  with  full  hands,  the  harvest  cast, 
For  the  brave  men  that  climb  the  mast, 
When  to  the  billow  and  the  blast 

It  swings  and  stoops,  with  fearful  strain, 
And  bind  the  fluttering  mainsail  fast, 

Till  the  tossed  bark  shall  sit  again 

Safe  as  a  sea-bird  on  the  main.^ 

Fling  wide  the  grain  for  those  who  throw 
The  clanking  shuttle^  to  and  fro, 
In  the  long  row  of  humming  rooms, 
And  into  ponderous^  masses  wind 

*  plied,  struck  repeatedly. 
2  main,  the  open  sea. 

8  "  those  who  throw  the  clanking  shuttle,"  the  weavers  in  great 
factories. 

"*  pon'der-ous,  very  heavy. 


THE    SONG    OF    THE    SOWER.  99 


The  web  that,  from  a  thousand  looms, 

Comes  forth  to  clothe  mankind. 
Strew,  with  free  sweep,  the  grain  for  them, 

By  whom  the  busy  thread 
Along  the  garment's  even  hem 

And  winding  seam  is  led ; 
A  palhd^  sisterhood,  that  keep 

The  lonely  lamp  alight. 
In  strife  with  weariness  and  sleep, 

Beyond  the  middle  night. 
Lnrge  part  be  theirs  in  what  the  year 
Shall  ripen  for  the  reaper  here. 

Still,  strew,  with  joyous  hand,  the  wheat 
On  the  soft  mold  beneath  our  feet. 

For  even  now  I  seem 
To  hear  a  sound  that  lightly  rings 
From  murmuring  harp  and  viol's-^  strings, 

As  in  a  summer  dream. 

Scatter  the  wheat  for  shipwrecked  men, 
Who,  hunger-worn,  rejoice  again 

In  the  sweet  safety  of  the  shore, 
And  wanderers,  lost  in  woodlands  drear, 
Whose  pulses  bound  with  joy  to  hear 

The  herd's  light  bell  once  more. 

^  pallid,  pale. 
2  vi'ol,  a  violin. 


100  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Freely  the  golden  spray  be  shed 
For  him  whose  heart,  when  night  comes  down 
On  the  close  alleys  of  the  town, 

Is  faint  for  lack  of  bread. 
In  chill  roof-chambers,  bleak  and  bare, 
Or  the  damp  cellar's  stifling  air, 
She  who  now  sees,  in  mute  despair, 

Her  children  pine  for  food. 
Shall  feel  the  dews  of  gladness  start 
To  lids  long  tearless,  and  shall  part 
The  sweet  loaf  with  a  grateful  heart, 

Among  her  thin  pale  brood. 
Dear,  kindly  Earth,  whose  breast  we  till! 
Oh,  for  thy  famished  children,  fill, 

Where'er  the  sower  walks. 
Fill  the  rich  ears  that  shade  the  mold 
With  grain  for  grain,  a  hundredfold, 

To  bend  the  sturdy  stalks  ! 

Strew  silently  the  fruitful  seed, 
As  softly  o'er  the  tilth ^  ye  tread, 

For  hands  that  delicately  knead 
The  consecrated  ^  bread  — 

The  mystic^  loaf  that  crowns  the  board, 

When,  round  the  table  of  their  Lord, 

^  tilth,  tilled  ground. 

2  con'se-crat-ed,  sacred;  blessed. 

*  mys'tic,  having  hidden  meaning. 


THE    SONG  OF-  TKjE  ;SOWm.  ^    .  1,01 

Within  a  thousand  temples  set, 
In  memory  of  the  bitter  death 
Of  Him  who  taught  at  Nazareth, 

His  followers  are  met, 
And  thoughtful  eyes  with  tears  are  wet, 

As  of  the  Holy  One  they  think, 
The  glory  of  whose  rising  yet 

Makes  bright  the  grave's  mysterious^  brink. 

Brethren,  the  sower's  task  is  done. 
The  seed  is  in  its  winter  bed. 
Now  let  the  dark-brown  mold  be  spread. 

To  hide  it  from  the  sun, 
And  leave  it  to  the  kindly  care 
Of  the  still  earth  and  brooding  air, 
As  when  the  mother,  from  her  breast. 
Lays  the  hushed  babe  apart  to  rest, 
And  shades  its  eyes,  and  waits  to  sea 
How  sweet  its  waking   smile  will  be. 
The  tempest  now  may  smite,  the  sleet 
All  night  on  the  drowned  furrow  beat, 
And  winds  that,   from  the  cloudy  hold, 
Of  winter  breMhe  the  bitter  cold, 
Stiffen  to  stone  the  mellow  mold. 

Yet  safe  shall  lie  the  wheat ; 
Till,  out  of  heaven's  unmeasured  blue, 

1  mys-te'ri-ous,  unknown ;  full  of  mystery. 


102  A    FOURtK    READER. 

Shall  walk  again  the  genial  ^  year. 
To  wake   with   warmth  and   nurse  with  dew 
The  germs  we  lay    to  slumber   here. 

Oh,  blessed  harvest  yet  to  be ! 

Abide  thou  with  the  Love  that  keeps, 
In.  its  warm  bosom,  tenderly, 

The  Life  which    wakes  and   that  which    sleeps. 
The  Love  that  leads  the  willing   spheres^ 
Along  the   unending  track  of  years, 
And  watches  o'er  the  sparrow's  nest, 
Shall  brood  above  thy  winter   rest, 
And  raise  thee  from  the  dust,  to  hold 

Light  whisperings   with  the  winds   of   May, 
And  fill  thy  spikes  with  living  gold, 

From  summer's  yellow  ray ; 
Then,   as  thy  garners  give  thee  forth, 

On  what  glad  errands  shalt  thou  go, 
Wherever  o'er  the  waiting  earth. 

Roads  wind  and  rivers  flow  ! 
The  ancient  East  shall  welcome  thee 
To  mighty  marts  ^  beyond  the  sea, 
And  they  who  dwell  where  palm-groves  sound 
To  summer  winds  the  whole  year  round, 
Shall  watch,  in  gladness,  from  the  shore. 
The  sails  that  bring  thy  glistening  store. 

^  genial,  pleasant. 

2  spheres,  referring  to  tlie  stars  and  planets. 

*  marts,  ports  of  conmuMcc 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  103 


XVIII.     ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP. 

From   "Arabian   Nights'  Entertainments." 

CHAPTER  I. 

IN  a  great  city  in  China  lived  a  poor  tailor  and  his 
wife,  with  their  only  son,  Aladdin.     The  father 
dying  suddenly,  his  family  had  nothing  to  live  upon 


but  what  little  the  poor  woman  earned  by  spinning 
cotton. 

One  day  while  Aladdin  was  playing  with  other 
boys,  a  stranger,  passing  by,  stood  still  and  looked 
at  him  for  a  loivj-  time. 


104  A    FOURTH    READER. 

This  stranger  was  a  great  magician/  who  had  just 
come  from  Africa.  After  gazing  a  long  time  at 
Aladdin,  he  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  to 
one  side,  where  his  playmates  could  not  hear,  and 
said  to  him,  "Child,  was  not  your  father  a  tailor 
called  Mustapha?" 

"Yes,"  said  Aladdin^  "but  he  has  been  dead  a 
long  time." 

At  this,  the  magician  threw  his  arms  around 
Aladdin's  neck  and  kissed  him,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes. 

"Why  do  you  weep?"  said  Aladdin.  "Alas!" 
cried  the  magician,  "how  can  I  forbear?^  I  am 
your  uncle;  your  father  was  my  brother;  1  have 
been  traveling  abroad  for  many  years,  and  aCtn 
now  come  home  hoping  to  see  him,  and  you  tell 
me  he  is  dead.  How  can  I  keep  from  weeping  ? 
But  it  is  a  joy  to  see  you  so  like  him." 

Then  he  asked  Aladdin  where  his  mother  lived, 
gave  him  some  money,  and  said,  "Go,  my  son,  to 
your  mother,  give  my  love  to  her,  and  tell  her  that 
I  will  come  and  see  her  to-morrow."  Saying  this 
he  went  away,  and  Aladdin  ran  home  to  his  mother, 
delighted  with  the  money  his  uncle  had  given  him. 

"Mother/^  said  he,  "have  I  an  uncle?" 

^  ma-gi'cian  (-shun),  one  who  works  wonders  that  others  cannot 
understand. 

^  for-bear',  refrain  ;  keep  from  it. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  105 

"No,  child,"  said  his  mother,  "you  have  no 
uncle." 

"  But,"  said  Aladdin,  "  I  met  a  man  this  morning 
who  says  he  is  my  uncle,  my  father's  brother;  he 
cried  and  kissed  me  when  I  told  him  that  my  father 
was  dead.  And  here  is  some  money  he  gave  me ; 
he  told  me  to  give  it  to  you  w^ith  his  love,  and  said 
he  would  come  and  see  you  to-morrow." 

The  poor  woman  did  not  know  what  to  make  of 
this,  but  was  very  glad  indeed  to  get  the  money. 

The  next  day  the  magician  came,  as  he  had  prom- 
ised, to  see  Aladdin's  mother.  He  brought  her  many 
presents,  wept  with  her  over  the  memory  of  his 
brother,  and  made  a  long  visit.  He  told  her  that 
the  reason  she  had  never  known  him  was  that  he 
had  been   for  forty  years  traveling. 

.  Then  he  called  Aladdin  and  asked  him  his  name. 
"I  am  called  Aladdin,"  said  he.  "Well,  Aladdin," 
said  the  magician,  "  what  is  your  business  ?  Have 
you  a  trade  ?" 

Aladdin  was  ashamed,  and  did  not  answer ;  but  his 
mother  answered  for  him  that  he  had  no  trade,  and 
that,  besides,  he  was  very  idle  and  did  not  help  her. 

"This  is  not  well,"  the  magician  answered.  "You 
must  try  and  help  yourself,  and  make  your  own 
living ;  if  you  do  not  like  a  trade,  I  will  set  you 
up  in  business  as  a  merchant,  and  you  can  buy  and 
sell  goods  as  an  honorable  man." 


106  A    FOURTH    READER. 

This  offer  pleased  Aladdin,  for  he  did  not  like  to 
work,  and  he  thought  that  to  be  a  merchant  and  sell 
goods  was  the  finest  thing  in  the  world.  So  he 
told  the  magician  that  he  was  sure  he  would  suc- 
ceed as  a  merchant,  and  would  thank  his  good  uncle 
all  his  life  for  giving  him  a  chance. 

The  next  day  the  magician  came  and  took  Aladdin 
with  him  to  a  great  merchant,  and  asked  to  see  some 
suits  of  clothes,  and  told  Aladdin  to  pick  out  the 
finest  one,  the  one  he  liked  the  best.  You  may  be 
sure  that  Aladdin  did  not  wait  long,  and  soon  left 
the  store  looking  like  a  very  different  boy  from  the 
one  who  had  entered  a  little  while  before. 

When  he  saw  himself  so  handsomely  dressed  from 
head  to  foot,  he  could  not  find  words  enough  to  ex- 
press his  gratitude^  to  his  kind  uncle,  and  thanked 
him  over  and  over  again.  The  uncle,  too,  promised 
never  to  forsake  ^  him. 

Then  he  led  him  into  the  streets  where  were  the 
finest  shops,  and  where  he  met  the  great  merchants ; 
for  his  uncle  said,  "  If  you  are  to  be  a  merchant,  you 
must  become  acquainted  with  these  men,  and  learn 
their  ways  of  doing  business." 

He  showed  him  the  richest  mosques,^  and  the  palace 
of  the  King,  and  at  last  brought  him  to  his  own  inn.^ 

^  grat'-i-tude,  thankfulness. 
2  for-sake',  leave  alone. 
^  mosques  (mosks),  temples. 
^  inn,  hotel. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  107 

There  he  met  many  more  merchants  who  were  also 
stopping  there,  and  the  magician  gave  them  all  a  great 
feast. 

This  lasted  until  night,  and  then  he  took  Aladdin 
home  to  his  mother,  who  was  delighted  and  aston- 
ished at  the  boy's  fine  appearance/ 

"  To-morrow,"  said  the  magician,  "  will  be  Friday, 
and  the  shops  will  be  closed ;  but  on  Saturday  I  will 
hire,  for  him  the  shop  that  I  promised  him,  and  fit 
him  out  as  a  merchant.  To-morrow  I  will  come 
and  take  him  out  to  walk,  so  that  he  can  see  the 
lovely  gardens  that  are  all  about  the  city,  and  the 
fine  houses  where  the  rich  dwell.  When  Aladdin 
has  become  a  great  merchant,  you  yourselves  may 
live  in  one  of  these." 

CHAPTER  IL 

TRUE  to  his  word,  in  the  morning  the  magician 
came  and  took  Aladdin  out  through  one  of  the 
gates  of  the  city,  and  showed  him  beautiful  palaces 
and  gardens ;  and  he  led  him  on,  and  on,  and  on, 
showing  him  now  a  beautiful  house  and  now  a  garden 
full  of  flowers,  until  he  was  far  in  the  country. 

By  and  by  they  sat  down  by  a  fountain  of  clear 
water,  which  fell  through  the  mouth  of  a  brazen 
lion  into    a   great    basin.     There  the  magician    took 

^  ap-pear'-ance  looks. 


108  A    FOURTH    READER. 

out  a  delicious^  lunch  of  fruit  and  cake,  and  gave 
Aladdin  all  he  wanted  to  eat. 

After  eating,  they  arose  again  and  went  on  into  the 
country,  through  more  beautiful  gardens  and  by  more 
fine  houses,  —  on,  and  on,  and  on,  until  poor  Aladdin 
was  so  tired  that  he  could  hardly  walk. 

Then  he  began  to  be  a  little  frightened,  and  said 
to  the  magician,  "  Where  are  we  going,  uncle  ?  We 
have  left  the  gardens  behind  us,  and  I  see  nothing 
but  mountains  now ;  how  can  I  ever  get  back  to  the 
town?" 

"  Never  fear,  nephew,"  said  the  false  uncle ;  "  I 
will  show  you  still  another  garden,  more  beautiful 
than  all  we  have  yet  seen,  and  you  will  be  very  glad 
that  you  have  come  so  far."     So  on  they  went  again. 

Finally  ^  they  came  to  a  valley  between  two  moun- 
tains. "  Now,"  said  the  magician,  "  we  will  stop, 
and  I  will  show  you  something  which  you  never 
saw,  nor  even  hoped  to  see;  but  first  gather  some 
sticks,  and  I  will  kindle  a  fire." 

Soon  they  had  a  bright  fire,  and  when  the  blaze 
was  brightest  the  magician  threw  a  powder  into  it 
which  made  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  ;  then  he  uttered 
some  magical^  words,  the  earth  trembled,  and,  just 
1)efore   Aladdin    and    the    magician,    it    opened   and 

^  de-li'cious  (-shus),  good  to  eat. 
*  fi'nal-ly,  at  last. 
•        ^  mag'ic  al,  having  a  secret  meaiiiug. 


ALADDIN ;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP. 


109 


showed  a  stone  about  a  half  yard  square,  with  a  brass 
ring  in  the  middle  of  it. 

Aladdin  was  so  frightened  at  what  he  saw  that 
he  would  have  run 
away;  but  the  magi- 
cian caught  him, 
scolded  him,  and  gave 
him  such  a  box  on  the 
ear  that  it  knocked 
him  down. 

,  Poor  Aladdin  got 
up  again  trembling, 
and  with  tears  in  his 
eyes  said  to  the  magi- 
cian, "  0  my  uncle  ! 
what  have  I  done  to 
be     treated     in     this 


m 
way  ? " 

"1  have  good  rea- 
son for  it,'*  said  the 
magician ;  "  I  am  your 
uncle,  and  take  the 
place  of  your  father, 
and  you  must  do  as  I 
say.     But,"  he  added 

more  gently,,  "  do  not  be  frightened ;  I  only  want 
you  to  obey  me,  that  you  may  get  the  great  riches 
I  am  planning  for  you  to  have." 


110  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Finally  Aladdin  stopped  crying,  and  his  uncle 
said,  "  You  saw  what  I  did  with  my  incense  ^  powder, 
and  you  heard  the  magical  words  I  used ;  under  this 
stone  is  hid  a  treasure  which  is  to  be  yours,  and  which 
will  make  you  richer  than  the  greatest  king  in  the 
world.  But  no  other  person  than  yourself  is  allowed 
to  touch  this  stone,  nor  is  able  to  lift  it  up  and  go 
down  into  the  earth  beneath  it ;  so  you  must  do 
exactly  as  I  tell  you." 

Aladdin  was  amazed^  and  delighted  at  what  he  saw, 
and  at  what  the  magician  said  of  the  great  treasure ; 
and  he  forgot  the  unkind  blow,  and  said,  "  Well, 
uncle,  what  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  I  am  ready  to 
obey  you." 

His  uncle  replied,  ^'  Take  hold  of  the  ring,  and  lift 
up  that  stone." 

"  Indeed,  uncle,"  said  Aladdin,  "  I  am  not  strong 
enough  to  lift  it ;  you  must  help  me." 

"  No,  you  must  do  it  alone,"  said  the  magician ; 
"  if  I  touch  it,  the  spell  will  be  broken,  and  we  can 
do  nothing.  But  you  can  do  it ;  take  hold  of  the  ring, 
pronounce  the  names  of  your  father  and  your  grand- 
father, and  then  lift,  and  you  will  find  that  it  will 
come  easily." 

Aladdin  did  as  the  magician  bade  him,  and,  behold, 
the  stone,  great  as  it  was,  almost  raised  itself  as -he 

^  in'cense,  fragrant  smoke  from  a  sacred  fire. 
2  amazed',  filled  with  wonder. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  Ill 


touched  the  ring,  so  that  he  lifted  it  easily.  Then, 
beneath  the  stone  appeared  a  pit  three  or  four  feet 
deep,  with  a  little  door  at  the  bottom,  and  stairs 
to  go  down  farther. 

You  may  guess  Aladdin's  wonder.  The  magician 
then  said,  ''  Listen,  my  son,  very  closely  to  what  I 
say  to  you  !  Go  down  into  that  cave,  and  when  you 
are  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  you  will  find  a  door 
open,  which  will  let  you  into  a  great  underground 
building  divided  into  three  vast  halls.  In  each  of 
these  halls  you  will  find  four  large  brass  vessels 
placed  on  each  side,  but  be  careful  not  to  touch 
them.  Before  you  go  into  the  first  hall,  be  sure 
that  you  take  up  your  gown  and  wrap  it  well  about 
you,  and  then  go  through  the  second  into  the  third 
without  stopping;  above  all,  be  very  careful  not  to 
touch  the  walls  even  with  your  clothes,  for  if  you 
do  you  will  instantly  ^  die. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  third  hall  you  will  find  a  door ; 
go  through  it  into  the  garden,  where  you  will  see 
trees  loaded  with  fruit.  Walk  straight  through  the 
garden  by  a  path  which  will  lead  you  to  five  steps  ; 
these  will  bring  you  out  upon  a  terrace,^  w^here  you 
will  see  a  niche  ^  before  you,  and  in  that  niche  a 
lighted  lamp.     Take  the  lamp,  put  it  in  your  bosom, 

^  In'stant-ly,  at  once. 

'^  terVace,  banks  of  earth  one  above  another. 

2  niche,  a  little  hollow,  usually  in  a  wall. 


112  A   FOURTH    READER. 

and  bring  it  to  me.  If  you  desire  any  of  the  fruit 
growing  on  any  of  the  trees  in  the  garden,  gather  all 
you  please."  , 

The  magician  said  these  words,  then  drew  off  a 
ring  from  his  finger  and  put  it  upon  Aladdin's,  telling 
him  it  would  preserve^  him  from  all  evil  so  long 
as  he  obeyed  what  had  been  told  him.  "  Then,"  said 
he,  "go  down  boldly,  child,  and  we  shall  both  be  rich 
all  our  lives." 

CHAPTER  III. 

ALADDIN  leaped  into  the  pit,  walked  carefully 
down  the  steps,  and  found  the  three  halls  just 
as  the  African  magician  had  said.  He  went  through 
them,  crossed  the  garden,  found  the  lamp  of  which 
the  magician  had  told  him,  and  put  it  in  his  bosom, 
being  very  careful  to  do  just  as  he  had  been  directed, 
for  he  feared  death  if  he  disobeyed  in  the  least. 

As  he  came  down  from  the  terrace,  he  stopped  in 
the  garden  and  looked  about  him.  All  the  trees 
were  loaded  with  the  most  wonderful  fruit  of  different 
colors,  —  some  white,  some  clear  and  transparent  ^  as 
crystal,  some  red,  some  green,  blue,  and  purple,  others 
yellow ;  indeed,   there  was  fruit  of  all  colors. 

The  white  were  pearls ;  the  clear  and  transparent, 
diamonds ;   the  red,  rubies ;  the  blue,  turquoises  ;  the 

^  pre-serve',  keep. 

'  trans-par'ent,  that  can  be  seen  through,  as  glass. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  113 

green,  emeralds ;  the  purple,  amethysts ;  the  yellow, 
sapphires ;  all  were  precious  stones.  These  fruits 
were  so  large  and  beautiful  that  Aladdin  had  never 
seen  anything  like  them,  although  he  did  not  know 
their  value,  and  would  have  preferred  ^  figs  or  grapes. 
But  he  was  so  pleased  with  the  beauty  and  the  size 
of  the  fruit  that  he  gathered  all  he  could.  He 
filled  his  two  pockets,  and  the  two  purses  that  his 
uncle  had  bought  for  him.  He  wrapped  up  as  many 
as  he  could  in  the  skirt  of  his  gown,  which  was  large 
and  loose,  and  he  crammed  the  bosom  of  the  gown 
as  full  as  possible. 

Having  thus  loaded  himself  with  a  fortune,  though 
he  did  not  know  it,  he  returned  through  the  three 
halls  with  the  same  care  that  he  had  shown  in  enter- 
ing, and,  making  all  the  haste  he  could,  he  soon 
arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  where  the  African 
magician  was  waiting  for  him  with  the  greatest 
impatience. 

As  soon  as  Aladdin  saw  him  he  cried  out,  "  Pray, 
uncle,  lend  me  your  hand  to  help  me  out." 

"  First  give  me  the  lamp,"  said  the  magician ;  "  it 
will  be  in  your  way." 

"  Indeed,  uncle,"  answered  Aladdin,  "  I  cannot 
now  ;  my  hands  are  full,  and  it  is  not  in  my  way.  It 
is  safe  in  my  bosom  ;  as  soon  as  I  am  up  I  will  give 
it  to  you." 

^  pre-ferred',  liked  better. 


114  A    FOURTH    READER. 


The  magician  was  so  obstinate  ^  that  he  would  not 
help  him  up  until  he  had  the  lamp,  and  Aladdin, 
who  did  not  want  to  lose  his  precious  fruit,  refused 
to  give  the  lamp  until  he  was  out  of  the  cave. 

Finally,  the  magician,  provoked  at  the  boy's 
refusal,  fell  into  a  passion  and  threw  some  of  the 
incense  which  he  had  used  before  into  the  fire,  pro- 
nouncing^ two  magical  words.  At  once  the  stone 
which  had  closed  the  mouth  of  the  cave  moved  back 
into  its  place,  with  the  earth  upon  it,  just  as  it  was 
when  Aladdin  and  his  uncle  arrived,  and  poor 
Aladdin  was  left  buried  in  the   dark  cave. 

This  deed  of  the  African  magician  showed  that  he 
was  not  Aladdin's  uncle,  as  he  had  claimed  to  be, 
but  merely  a  wicked  magician  who  had  used  Aladdin 
to  get  the  wonderful  lamp,  and  who  intended  then 
to  leave  him  to  his  own  fate. 

He  had  from  his  youth  studied  magic  and  read 
magical  books,  from  which  he  had  found  out  that 
there  was  in  the  world  a  wonderful  lamp  which 
would  make  its  owner  more  powerful  than  any 
monarch'^  on  the  earth,  and  lately  he  had  learned 
that  it  was  in  this  cave,  in  Aladdin's  city  in  China. 
And  he  also  knew  that  he  would  not  himself  be 
allowed  to  take  it,  or  to  enter  the  cave  where  it  stood, 
but  must  receive  it  from  the  hands  of  another  person. 

'  ob'sti-nate,  unwilling  to  give  up.         2  pro-nounc'ing,  speaking. 
3  mon'arch,  ruler;  kin.o'. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  115 


For  this  reason  he  took  Aladdin  and  pretended  ^  to 
be  his  nncle,  and  led  him  out  into  the  country  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave^  and  sent  him  down  into  the  pit, 
intending^  as  soon  as  he  had  the  lamp  in  his  own 
hands,  that  Aladdin  should  never  see  him  again.  But 
his  anger  and  haste  ruined  all  his  plans,  and  lost  to 
him  both  Aladdin  and  the  lamp. 

When  the  African  magician  saw  that  all  his  great 
hopes  were  destroyed  by  his  own  folly,  he  returned 
at  once  to  Africa.  Poor  Aladdin  was  left  in  the  dark 
cave,  underneath  the  ground. 

Imagine  ^  his  feelings  if  you  can.  He  called  aloud 
to  his  uncle,  saying  he  would  give  him  the  lamp  if 
he  would  only  let  him  out,  but  all  in  vain ;  no  one 
could   hear  his  cries. 

Then  he  went  down  the  steps,  thinking  lie  would 
go  back  into  the  garden,  but  the  door  to  the  garden 
was  shut. 

For  two  days  he  lay  in  this  dark  hole,  with  noth- 
ing to  eat  or  to  drink,  thinking  that  he  should  never 
see  the  light  again. 

Finally  he  clasped  his  hands,  and  said,  ^^  There  is 
no  strength  or  power  but  in  the  great  and  high 
God." 

As  he  clasped  his  hands,  by  accident  ^  he  rubbed  the 
ring  which  the  magician  had  put  upon  his  finger,  and 

^  pre-tend'ed,  made  believe.  ^  ini-ag'ine,  think  of. 

2  ac'ci-dent,  chance ;  somethino'  not  intended. 


116  *  A    FOURTH    READER 


at  once,  to  his  surprise,  a  frightful  looking  genie  ^ 
rose  out  of  the  earth,  and  said  to  him,  "  What 
Avouldst  thou  have  with  me  ?  I  am  ready  to  obey  thee 
as  thy  slave,  as  I  am  bound  to  be  the  slave  of  any 
one  who  wears  the  ring  that  is  upon  thy  finger,  and 
there  are  many  other  slaves  of  the  ring." 

At  any  other  time  Aladdin  would  have  been  ter- 
ribly frightened  at  the  sight  of  this  monstrous  genie, 
but  now  he  merely  said,  ■ ''  Whoever  thou  art,  deliver 
me  from  this  place,  if  thou  art  able." 

As  he  spoke  the  earth  opened,  and  he  found  him- 
self in  the  bright  sunlight,  upon  the  very  spot  to 
which  the  magician  had  first  brought  him. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

AS  soon  as  Aladdin's  eyes  became  used  to  the 
light  so  that  he  could  see,  he  noticed  that  he 
was  really  quite  near  to  the  city,  and  that  the  ma- 
gician had  deceived  him  by  leading  him  a  long  dis- 
tance round  about. 

He  hurried  to  his  mother's  house,  and  fell  upon 
the  doorstep  faint  with  hunger. ,  His  mother,  who  had 
given  him  up  for  lost,  received  him  with  great  joy. 

After  he  had  rested  and  eaten,  he  told  her  all 
that    had    happened    to    him,   and    showed    her   the 

^  ge'-nie,  an  imaginary  being  who  was  supposed  to  be  able  to  appear 
in  different  forms,  and  to  have  great  power.  They  are  usually  described 
as  being  very  ugly  to  look  upon. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  117 

wonderful  fruit  he  had  gathered  from  the  trees  in 
the  garden.  But  she  had  always  been  a  poor 
woman,  and  had  never  owned  any  jewels,  so  she  did 
not  know  the  value  of  the  precious  stones  any  more 
than  did  Aladdin;  she  merely  thought  them  pretty 
things.  So  Aladdin  put  them  behind  the  cushion  on 
the  sofa  where  he  was  sitting  and  went  to  bed. 

In  the  morning  his  mother  said  to  him,  "Alas, 
my  child,  I  have  not  a  bit  of  bread  for  you  to  eat, 
but  I  have  a  little  cotton  which  I  have  spun ;  wait 
here,  and  I  will  go  and  sell  it  and  buy  some  food." 

"  Keep  your  cotton,  mother,"  said  Aladdin.  "  I 
will  go  out  and  sell  this  lamp  which  I  found  in 
the  cave." 

"Very  well,"  said  his  mother;  "but  first  I  will 
clean  it,  —  it  is  very  dirty." 

No  sooner  had  she  begun  to  rub  it  than  a  fright- 
ful genie  of  monstrous  size  appeared  before  her,  and 
said,  in  a  voice  like  thunder,  "  What  wouldst  thou 
with  me?  I  am  ready  to  obey  thee  as  thy  slave, 
and  am  the  slave  of  all  those  who  have  that  lamp, 
and  there  are  many  other  slaves  of  the  lamp." 

Aladdin's  mother  was  so  frightened  at  the  sight 
of  the  genie  and  at  his  terrible  voice  that  she 
fainted  away ;  but  Aladdin,  who  had  seen  such  a 
being  before  in  the  cave,  took  the  lamp  out  of  his 
mother's  hands,  and  said  to  the  genie  boldly,  "  I 
am  hungry;    bring  me  something  to  eat." 


118  A    FOURTH    READER. 


The  genie  disappeared/  and  in  an  instant  returned 
with  a  large  silver  basin  on  his  head,  and  with 
twelve  silver  plates,  all  containing^  food,  with  silver 
cups  to  drink  from ;  these  he  placed  upon  the  table 
and  was  gone. 

Then  Aladdin  dashed  some  water  into  his  mother's 
face  and  restored^  her,  and  when  she  arose  said,  ^^  Do 
not  be  frightened,  mother,  but  come  with  me  and 
eat;  this  food  will  strengthen  you."  She  could  not 
understand  how  the  food  came  to  be  there,  but,  after 
eating,  Aladdin  told  her  about  the  genie  of  the 
lamp. 

On  this  food  they  lived  for  many  days ;  and  when 
it  was  gone  Aladdin  took  the  silver  dishes,  one  by 
one,  and  sold  them  to  a  pawnbroker;  and  although 
he  was  cheated,  and  got  much  less  than  they  were 
worth,  they  still  had  enough  to  live  on  for  a  long 
time. 

When  this  money  was  all  spent,  Aladdin  again 
rubbed  the  lamp  and  called  upon  his  genie,  Avho 
again  supplied  them  with  silver  dishes  and  food ; 
and  he  and  his  mother  might  have  gone  on  living 
in  that  way  until  this  time  had  not  something  hap- 
pened which  Aladdin  did  not  expect. 

He  had  never  seen  any  woman's  face  but  his 
mother's,  —  for  the  women  of  that  country  cover  their 

^  dis-ap-peared',  went  out  of  siolit.  ^  con-tain'-ing,  holding. 

3  re-stored^  bi-ou<(lit  to  lier  senses. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  119 

faces  with  veils  when  they  go  out,  —  but  one  day  he 
chanced^  to  see  the  King's  daughter,  the  Princess 
Badroulboudour,  with  the  veil  removed  from  her 
face.  She  was  very  beautiful,  and  Aladdin  loved 
her  at  once. 

After  a  time  he  said  to  his  mother  that  he  had 
seen  a  beautiful  princess  and  loved  her,  and  that 
she  must  go  and  ask  the  King  to  give  her  to  him 
in  marriage. 

You  may  well  imagine  that  the  poor  woman  was 
astonished  at  this  request.  How  could  she  ask  the 
King  to  give  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  her  son  ? 
"  Child,"  said  she,  "  you  are  beside  yourself."  But 
he  urged  her  and  urged  her. 

Finally  she  said,  '^  I  cannot  go,  because  we  have 
no  present  fine  enough  to  give  the  King."  But 
Aladdin  was  wiser  than  when  he  was  taken  by  the 
magician  to  the  cave.  He  had  talked  to  a  jeweler 
when  he  w^as  selling  his  silver  plate,  and  he  had 
found  that  the  fruit  which  he  had  picked  from  the 
underground  garden  was  not  made  of  colored  glass, 
but  that  each  piece  was  a  precious  stone  of  the 
most  wonderful  value.  So  he  said  to  his  mother, 
"  Take  these  to  the  King,  and  I  am  sure  he  will 
listen ; "  and  he  filled  a  large  porcelain  dish  with 
the  wonderful  jewels. 

Aladdin's  mother  did  not  know  the  value  of  the 

1  chanced,  happened. 


120  A    FOURTH    READER. 

gift,  but  still  consented^  to  go,  though  she  did  not 
believe  that  she  could  possibly  succeed ;  at  which  I 
do  not  wonder,  do  you?  But  Aladdin  encouraged 
her,  and  said  that  the  lamp  upon  which  they  had 
lived  so  long  would  help  them.  "  But  be  sure,"  he 
said,  "not  to  tell  any  one  the  secret  of  the  lamp." 

The  first  day  she  went  to  the  King's  palace  she 
waited  a  long  time,  but  was  not  able  to  present  her 
gift;  and  so  for  several  days,  until  both  she  and 
Aladdin  began  to  lose  heart. 

But  one  day  after  the  council  had  gone,  and  the 
King  had  retired  to  his  rooms,  he  said  to  the 
Grand  Vizier,^  who  was  his  chief  adviser,  "1  have 
noticed  for  several  da,ys  a  woman  carrying  some- 
thing wrapped  up  in  a  napkin,  who  has  stood  in 
the  throng^  before  the  council.  If  she  comes  again 
call  her,  that  I  may  hear  what  she  has  to  say." 

So  the  next  day  when  the  council  was  called,  the 
Vizier  took  Aladdin's  mother  the  very  first  of  all, 
and  led  her  to  the  King.  She  had  w^atched  others 
salute  the  King,  so  she  knew  what  to  do.  She 
bowed  her  head  down  to  the  carpet  that  covered 
the  steps  before  the  throne,  and  did  not  move  until 
the  King  bade  her  rise.  Then  he  said  to  her, 
"Good  woman,  what  brings  you  here?" 

At  these   words  Aladdin's    mother    bowed   to   the 

^  con-sent'-ed,  yielded ;  agreed.  ^  throng,  crowd. 

2  viz'-i-er  (yer),  an  officer  of  tjie  king. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  121 

ground  a  second  time,  and  then  said,  "  Monarch  of 
monarchs,  before  I  tell  your  awful  Majesty  the 
strange  business  that  brings  me  here  before  your 
royal  throne,  I  beg  that  you  will  pardon  the  boldness 
of  the  request  that  I  am  about  to  make." 

The  King  then  ordered  every  one  to  go  out 
except  the  Grand  Vizier.  He  then  assured  ^  the 
poor  woman  of  his  pardon,  whatever  she  might  ask, 
and  told  her  to  speak.  She  then  told  him  of  her 
son's  love  for  the  royal  princess,  Badroulboudour, 
and  his  request  for  her  in  marriage.  The  King  was 
indeed  astonished,  but  showed  no  anger,  and  asked 
her  what  she  had  in  her  napkin. 

She  took  the  porcelain  dish,  untied  the  napkin 
from  around  it,  and  gave  it  to  the  King.  No 
words  can  express  his  astonishment^  when  he  saw 
so  many  jewels,  the  finest  that  his  eyes  had  ever 
rested  upon,  and  he  cried  out,  "  How  rich  and  beau- 
tiful ! "  and  turning  to  the  Grand  Vizier  he  said, 
^^Look  upon  these,  and  confess  that  your  eyes  have 
never  beheld"  anything  so  rich  and  beautiful.  Is  not 
this  present  worthy  of  the  Princess,  my  daughter  ? 
Ought  I  not  to  give  her  to  the  one  who  values  her 
so  highly?" 

At  these  words  the  Vizier  became  very  unhappy,  * 
for   he   had   hoped   that  his    own  son    would   marry 

^  as-sured',  promised ;  gave  encouragement. 
2  as-ton'-ish-ment,  wonder;  surprise. 


122  A    FOURTH    READER. 

the  Princess ;  so  he  said,  "  I  cannot  deny  that  the 
present  is  worthy  of  the  Princess,  but  I  beg  you  to 
grant  me  three  months'  time,  in  which  I  hope  to 
procure^  for  you  a  present  equally  rich  for  my  son." 

The  King  granted  him  the  request,  and  turning 
to  Aladdin's  mother  said,  ^^Good  woman,  go  home 
and  tell  your  son  that  I  must  think  this  matter  over. 
After  three  months  come  to  me  again,  and  I  will 
give  you  my  answer.'' 

CHAPTER  V. 

ON  the  first  day  of  the  fourth  month  Aladdin 
said  to  his  mother,  ''  I  pray  you,  go  to  the 
King  and  ask  him  once  more  for  his  daughters 
hand." 

As  soon  as  the  King  saw  Aladdin's  mother  stand- 
ing in  the  throng  before  the  council,^  he  said  to  the 
Vizier,  "  I  see  the  good  woman  who  made  me  the 
noble  present  of  precious  stones  some  months  ago ; 
let  her  come  before  my  presence  at  once." 

When  Aladdin's  mother  came  before  the  royal 
throne,  she  bowed  herself  to  the  ground.  When  she 
arose  she  said,  "  Your  Majesty,  I  have  come  in  the 
name  of  my  son  Aladdin,  to  remind  you  that  the 
three  months  have  passed,  and  to  ask  you  for  the 
hand  of  the  beautiful  Princess  Badroulboudour." 

^  pro-cure',  get.  2  couu'cil,  company  of  advisers. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  123 


At  this  the  King  was  greatly  troubled,  for  as 
Aladdin's  mother  was  very  meanly  dressed  and  not 
at  all  attractive/  he  could  not  believe  that  her  son 
could  be  such  a  person  as  the  fair  and  radiant^  Prin- 
cess would  be  willing  to  marry;  so  he  asked  the 
Vizier  how  he  might  avoid  ^  this  marriage  without 
giving  offense.  The  A'izier  replied,  '^  There  is  one 
way,  your  Majesty.  Make  such  a  demand  upon  him 
as  a  price  for  your  daughter's  hand  that  he  wdll  be 
unable  to  meet  it." 

This  advice  pleased  the  King,  and,  turning  to 
Aladdin's  mother,  he  said,  "  My  good  woman,  upon 
one  condition  will  I  give  the  Princess  to  your  son  in 
marriage.  You  know  that  the  custom  of  our  land 
requires  that  he  who  would  lead  in  marriage  a  damsel 
must  bring  a  present  worthy  of  her.  Now  my 
daughter  is  a  princess ;  and,  besides,  I  love  her  very 
dearly,  and  think  her  worthy  of  a  nobler  gift  than 
was  ever  given  to  any  bride  before,  and  only  he  can 
have  her  who  brings  such  a  gift. 

"  What  I  require  is  this :  he  must  bring  me  forty 
basins  of  solid  gold,  full  of  such  gems  as  you  brought 
me  at  first,  carried  by  forty  black  slaves  who  shall  be 
led  by  forty  young  and  handsome  w^hite  slaves,  —  all 
in  the  richest  dress.  Tf  he  brings  me  this  gift,  I  will 
bestow  my  daughter'^  hand  upon  him." 

1  at-tract'-ive,  pleasant  to  look  at.         ^  ra'-di-ant,  shining;  beautiful. 
3  a-void',  escape ;  get  rid  of. 


124  A   FOURTH    READER. 

Aladdin's  mother  bowed  to  the  ground  before  the 
King,  and  hurried  home  to  her  son,  and  at  once  told 
him  the  story  of  her  visit.  Then  she  said,  "  The 
King  wants  your  answer  at  once,  but  I  think  he 
may  wait  a  long  time." 

"  Not  so  long  as  you  think,  mother,''  said  Aladdin. 
"  Does  his  demand  seem  large  ?  It  is  very  easy  for 
me.     Let  us  have  dinner." 

While  Aladdin's  mother  was  getting  dinner,  he 
went  into  his  own  room,  took  down  his  wonderful 
lamp  and  rubbed  it.  The  genie  appeared  as  usual. 
Aladdin  told  him  of  the  King's  demand,  and  said  to 
him,  "  Go,  fetch  me  this  present  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  genie  at  once  disappeared,  and  almost  before 
Aladdin  knew  that  he  was  gone  he  was  back  again, 
and  with  all  that  the  King  asked.  There  were  the 
forty  white  slaves,  each  leading  a  black  slave,  who 
carried  on  his  head  a  basin  of  gold  full  of  pearls, 
diamonds,  rubies,  and  other  precious  stones,  all  richer 
and  more  beautiful  than  those  which  Aladdin  had 
picked  in  the  magician's  garden. 

Aladdin  at  once  asked  his  mother  to  take  this  gift 
to  the  King.  As  the  procession^  went  through  the 
streets,  all  looked  at  it  with  wonder.  The  slaves  were 
so  richly  dressed  that  they  were  taken  for  princes 
themselves,  and  the  porter^  at  the  King's  palace  was 

*  pro-ces'-sion  (shun),  company  marching  in  older. 
2  por'-ter,  gatekeeper. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  125 


about  to  kiss  the  hem  of  the  leader's  robe,  but  he 
said,  "  We  are  only  slaves  ourselves ;  our  master 
will  come  later."  Then  they  all  went  before  the 
King,  bowed  to  the  ground,  and  touched  the  carpet 
with  their  foreheads;  and  then  the  black  slaves  un- 
covered the  basins,  and  stood  humbly  before  the  King. 

Aladdin's  mother  now  stepped  forward  to  the  foot 
of  the  throne,  and  said,  "  Your  Majesty,  my  son 
Aladdin  sends  this  gift,  conscious  ^  that  it  is  below 
the  worth  of  the  Princess  Badroulboudour." 

The  King  was  greatly  moved  at  these  gifts,  and 
by  the  modesty  of  Aladdin's  words,  and  at  once  sent 
Aladdin's  mother  back  to  him  with  these  words : 
"  Good  woman,  go  and  tell  your  son  that  I  wait  to 
receive  him  with  open  arms,  and  will  bestow  on  him 
without  delay  my  daughter's  hand." 

She  hastened  home  to  tell  Aladdin  the  joyful  news. 
He  then  called  the  genie,  who  dressed  him  in  beau- 
tiful raiment,^  that  he  might  appear  well  before 
the  King,  and  added  to  him  beauty  and  dignity 
of  person.  The  King  received  him  with  delight, 
embraced  him,  and  placed  him  by  his  side  on  the 
royal  throne. 

Then  he  made  a  great  feast,  and  after  it  the  mar- 
riage contract  was  drawn  up.  Then  Aladdin  asked 
if  he  might  build  a  palace  for  the  Princess  before  the 
marriage ;    the  King  gave  him  leave,  whereupon  he 

^  con'-scious  (shus),  aware ;  knowing.  ^  rsd'-ment,  clothes. 


126  A    FOURTH    READER. 


mounted  a  beautiful  horse  that  the  genie  had  brought^ 
and   went  away. 

He  called  the  genie  and  told  him  to  build  for  him 
the  most  beautiful  palace  that  the  world  had  ever 
seen.  No  sooner  w^as  it  said  than  done ;  and  in  the 
morning  when  the  King  arose,  there  was  this  wonder- 
ful palace  standing  next  to  his  own,  witli  a  carpet 
laid  between  them  for  the  Princess  to  walk  on. 

That  day  the  marriage  took  place,  and  when 
the  Princess  Badroulboudour  was  unveiled  and  saw 
Aladdin  for  the  first  time,  she  was  charmed  with  his 
beauty  and  dignity,  and  loved  him  at  once. 

Then  they  w^ent  to  live  in  the  wonderful  new 
palace,  where  they  were  very  happy,  and  the  King 
made  Aladdin  his  chief  counselor.^ 


w 


CHAPTER  VI. 

'HEN    the    wicked    magician    saw 
the  wonderful  palace,  and  Alad- 
din married  to  the  beautiful  princess, 
he  was    mad   with   envy,  and   deter- 
mined'^ to  get  the  lamp  for  himself. 
So    he   dressed    himself   up  as   an 
old    man    selling    lamps,    and    went 
crying   through    the    streets,    "  Who 
will  trade  old  lamps  for  new  ones?" 

1  coun'-sel-or,  adviser,  ^  de-ter'miiied,  made  up  liis  iniiid. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  127 


One  day  when  Aladdin  was  out^  the  magician  came 
beneath  the  window  of  Princess  Badroulboudour,  cry- 
ing this  strange  cry.  She  could  not  tell  what  he  was 
saying,  and  sent  out  a  slave  to  listen.  The  slave 
came  back  laughing,  and  said,  ^'  He  wants  to  give  new 
lamps  for  old  ones."  Another  slave,  hearing  this, 
said  to  the  Princess,  ''1  have  noticed  an  old  lamp 
upon  a  shelf  in  the  Prince's  room.  I  am  sure  he 
would  be  glad  to  trade  it  for  a  new  one."  This  was 
Aladdin's  wonderful  lamp  which  he  kept  upon  a  shelf 
in  his  own  chamber. 

The  Princess  knew  nothing  about  the  lamp  or  its 
powers,  and  so  told  the  slave  to  take  it  to  the  old 
man  and  get  a  new  one.  As  soon  as  the  magician 
had  the  lamp  you  may  be  very  sure  that  he  was 
glad,  and  he  seized  it  quickly  and  hurried  away. 

At  night  he  took  it  out  and  rubbed  it,  whereupon 
the  genie  appeared,  saying,  "  WJiat  wilt  thou  ?  I  am 
ready  to  obey  thee  as  thy  slave." 

'^  I  command  you,  then,"  said  the  magician,  "  to 
carry  me  and  Aladdin's  palace  and  all  the  people 
in  it  to  the  middle  of  Africa." 

You  may  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  Princess 
Badroulboudour  when  she  awoke  in  the  morning! 
When  the  King  arose  the  next  day  and  looked  out 
of  his  window  for  his  daughter  s  palace,  he  could 
not  believe  his  eyes.  / 

"  Certainly,"   he  said  to  himself,    "  I  am  not   mis- 


128  A   FOURTH    READER. 

taken.  It  stood  there  yesterday.  If  it  had  fallen 
down,  the  stones  and  timbers  would  be  lying  there. 
What  can  have  happened?     Is  it  all  a  dream?" 

He  sent  in  haste  for  the  Vizier,  w4io  was  really 
pleased  at  this  strange  misfortune,  for  he  had  never 
liked  Aladdin. 

"Your  Majesty/'  he  said,  "you  remember  I  told 
you  this  was  all  the  work  of  magic.  This  Aladdin 
is  a  sorcerer,^  and  should  not  be  allowed  to  live  a 
minute." 

The  King  was  so  enraged  that  he  sent  at  once 
to  have  Aladdin  brought  before  him. 

Aladdin  was  arrested  and  taken  before  the  King, 
who  ordered  him  to  be  put  to  death ;  but  the  people 
of  the  city  had  come  to  love  Aladdin,  because  he 
had  been  very  generous  with  them,  and  had  given 
many  gifts  to  the  poor. 

As  soon  as  they  learned  that  his  life  w^as  in  danger, 
they  gathered  in  such  an  angry  throng  about  the  palace 
that  the  King  did  not  dare  to  have  Aladdin  killed. 
But  he  cried  out  to  him  in  his  rage  :  "  What  have 
you  done  with  my  daughter  ?  Where  is  the  beautiful 
Badroulboudour,  and  where  is  her  palace?" 

Aladdin  had  not  heard  of  his  terrible  loss,  so  he 
replied :  "  I  know  not,-  your  Majesty.  Are  they  not 
here  ?  " 

"  Here !    you    wretch  !  "    said    the    King ;    "  here ! 

1  sor'cer-er,  a  magician. 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  129 


You  know  very  well  they  are  not  here  !  Where  have 
you  taken  them?''  Aladdin  insisted  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  this  strange  event.  "  But/'  said  he  to  the 
King,  "  I  entreat  your  Majesty,  grant  me  forty  days 
to  make  my  search,  and  if  in  that  time  I  find  not  my 
beloved  wife,  your  daughter,  the  beautiful  Princess 
Badroulboudour,  I  will  return  and  offer  my  head 
to  satisfy  your  anger."     The  King  consented. 

Aladdin  at  once  w^ent  out  from  the  royal  presence, 
and  began  his  search ;  but  nothing  could  he  find. 
He  went  from  place  to  place,  crying,  "  Where  is  my 
palace?     Where  is  my  wife?" 

The  people  thought  him  mad  ;  indeed,  he  had  almost 
become  so  when,  one  day,  a  strange  accident  befell^ 
him.  He  had  almost  resolved^  to  give  up  his  search 
in  despair,^  and  had  gone  down  to  the  river  to  throw 
himself  in.  But  the  banks  Avere  slippery  and  he  fell 
down.  Now  he  still  had  on  the  Avonderful  ring 
which  tlie  magician  had  put  on  his  finger,  but  he 
had  forgotten  this  ring's  wonderful  power. 

As  he  fell,  however,  the  ring  was  rubbed  hard  on 
the  ground.  At  once  the  genie  who  had  appeared 
to  liim  in  the  cave  stood  before  him,  saying  '^  What 
wilt  thou  have  ?  I  am  thy  slave,  and  there  are 
many  other  slaves  of  the  ring,  and  of  him  who  holds 
the  ring.'' 

^  be-feir,  happened  to.  ^  re-solved',  decided. 

3  de-spair',  hopelessness, 
9— 4n 


130  A    FOURTH    READER. 


.  Aladdin,  astonished  and  delighted,  said,  "  The 
palace  which  I  built  for  my  princess  is  lost.  I  com- 
mand you  to  take  me  to  it,  and  set  me  down  under 
the  Princess  Badroulboudour's  window." 

No  sooner  had  he  spoken  the  words  than  he  found 
himself  beneath  the  windows  of  his  palace.  In  the 
morning,  while  the  Princess  was  dressing,  a  maid 
looking  from  the  window  saw  Aladdin,  and  told  the 
good  news  to  her  mistress,  who  at  once  went  to  the 
window  and  opened  it.  What  was  her  joy  at  see- 
ing her  husband,  and  his  relief  at  seeing  her  well 
and  safe ! 

She  immediately  sent  down  and  opened  a  private 
door,  by  which  he  entered  and  came  up  to  her  apart- 
ment. Then  she  told  him  of  all  the  strange  things 
that  had  happened  to  her,  beginning  with  her  sale 
of  the  lamp  to  the  old  peddler.  He  at  once  under- 
stood that  the  old  peddler  was  none  other  than 
the  African  magician,  who  now  had  the  wonderful 
lamp. 

Aladdin  immediately  formed  a  plan.  He  went  out, 
and  finding  a  peasant  offered  to  change  clothes  with 
him.  As  Aladdin's  clothes  were  very  beautiful,  the 
peasant  was  willing  enough  to  trade.  Aladdin  then 
went  to  a  druggist,  and  asked  for  a  certain  powder. 
After  this  he  returned  to  the  palace,  and  told  the 
Princess  what  to  do. 

"  When  the  magician  comes,''  said  Aladdin,  "  treat 


ALADDIN;    OR,    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP.  131 

him  well,  and  invite  liim  to  dine  with  you.  During 
the  dinner  put  this  powder  into  his  cup,  and  see  what 
Avill  follow." 

She  did  as  he  told  her,  and  sent  word  to  the  ma- 
gician that  she  would  be  glad  to  have  him  call  upon 
her.  When  he  came,  she  invited  him  to  dine  in  her 
apartment.  He  was  delighted  w^ith  this  change  in 
her  manner,  for  she  had  hitherto^  treated  him  with 
scorn. 

At  dinner,  wlien  he  was  not  looking,  she  dropped  the 
powder  into  his  cup  of  wine.  Then  she  proposed 
a  health.  He  quickly  raised-  his  cup  that  he  might 
drink  to  her,  but  scarcely  had  he  drunk  when  he  fell 
backward  senseless. 

Aladdin,  who  had  been  hidden  outside  the  room, 
rushed  in,  tore  open  the  robe  of  the  magician,  and 
took  possession  of  his  lamp ;  then  he  rubbed  it,  and 
when  the  genie  appeared,  Aladdin  commanded  him 
to  transport^  them  all,  at  once,  to  their  own  far 
country. 

The  next  morning  when  the  King  arose,  he  looked 
sadly  out  of  his  window  toward  the  place  where 
Aladdin's  palace  had  stood,  expecting  to  see  nothing 
but  the  vacant  ground,  when  what  was  his  surprise  to 
behold  the  palace  in  all  its  beauty  where  it  had  been 
before ! 

So    once    more    they   were    happy    together,  —  the 

1  hith-er-to',  up  to  this  time.  2   trans-port',  carry. 


132 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


King,  the  beautiful  Princess,  and  Aladdin,  —  and 
lived  in  peace  and  joy  for  many  years,  until  the 
King  died. 

Then  Aladdin  became  King,  and  lived  to  a  great 
old  age,  enjoying  the  love  of  Badroulboudour,  and 
doing  good  to  his  people. 


XIX.     A  DUTCH    LULLABY. 

By  Eugene  Field. 

YNKEN,  Blynken,  and  Nod, 
one  night, 
Sailed   off  in  a  wooden 
shoe,  — 
Sailed  on  a  river  of  misty 
light 
Into  a  sea  of  dew. 
^'  Where  are  you  going,  and 
what  do  you  wish  ?  " 
The  old  moon  asked  the  three. 
^'  We  have  come  to  fish  for  the  herring  fish 
That  live  in  this  beautiful  sea; 
Nets  of  silver  and  gold  have  we," 
Said  Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 


A   DUTCH    LULLABY.  133 


The  old  moon  laughed  and  sung  a  song, 
As  they  rocked  in  the  wooden  shoe  ; 
And  the  wind  that  sped  them  all  night  long 

Ruffled  the  waves  of  dew  ; 
The  little  stars  were  the  herring  fish 
That  lived  in  the  beautiful  sea. 
'^  Now  cast  your  nets  wherever  you  wish, 
Bat  never  afeard  are  we !  " 
So  cried  the  stars  to  the  fishermen  three.  — 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

All  night  long  their  nets  they  threw 

For  the  fish  in  the  twinkling  foam, 
Then  down  from  the  sky  came  the  wooden    shoe, 

Bringing  the  fishermen  home  ; 
'Twas  all  so  pretty  a  sail,  it  seemed 

As  if  it  could  not  be ; 
And   some    folks    thought  'twas    a    dream    they'd 
dreamed, 
Of  sailing  that  beautiful  sea ; 
But  T  shall  name  you  the  fishermen  three,  — 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

Wynken  and  Blynken  are  two  little  eyes, 
And  Nod  is  a  little  head, 


134 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


And  the  wooden  shoe  that  sails  the  skies 

Is  a  wee  one's  trundle-bed ; 
So  shut  your  eyes  while  Mother  sings 

Of  wonderful  sights  that  be, 
And  you  shall  see  the  beautiful  things 
As  you  rock  on  the  misty  sea 
Where     the    old     shoe     rocked    the    fisher- 
men three, — 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 


XX.     KRINKEN. 

By  Eugene  Field. 

EINKEN  was  a  little  child,  — 
It  was   summer  when  he 

smilecj. 
Oft    the    hoary  ^    sea    and 
grim 
Stretched  its  white  arms  out 

to  him, 
Calling,  "  Sun-child,  come  to 
me ; 

Let  me  warm  my  heart  with  thee !  " 
But  the  child  heard  not  the  sea 


hoar'y,  gray. 


KRINKEN.  135 

Calling,  yearning^  evermore 

For  the  summer  on  the  shore. 

V 

Krinken  on  the  beach  one  day 
Saw  a  maiden  Nis  at  play ; 
On  the  pebbly  beach  she  played 
In  the  summer  Krinken  made. 
Fair,  and  very  fair,  was  she, 
Just  a  little  child  was  he. 
"  Krinken/'  said  the  maiden  Nis, 
'-  Let  me  have  a  little  kiss,  — 
Just  a  kiss,  and  go  with  me 
To  the  summer-lands  that  be 
Down  within  the  silver  sea." 

Krinken  was  a  little  child  — 
By  the  maiden  Nis  beguiled,^ 
Hand  in  hand  with  her  went  he 
And  't  was  summer  in  the  sea. 
And  the  hoary  sea  and  grim 
To  its  bosom  folded  him  — 
Clasped  and  kissed  the  little  form, 
And  the  ocean's  heart  was  warm. 

Now  the  sea  calls  out  no  more ; 
Tt  is  winter  on  the  shore,  — 
Winter  where  that  little  child 

1  yearning,  longing  ;  lovingly  desiring. 

2  be-guiled',  led  astray. 


136  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Made  sweet  summer  when  he  smiled; 
Though  'tis  summer  on  the  sea 
Where  with  maiden  Nis  went  lie, — 
It  is  winter  on  the  shore, 
Winter,  winter  evermore. 

Of  the  summer  on  the  deep 
Come  sweet  visions  in  my  sleep: 
Ills  fair  face  lifts  from  the  sea, 
His  dear  voice  calls  out  to  me, — • 
These  my  dreams  of  summer  be. 

Krinken  was  a  little  child. 
By  the  maiden  Nis  beguiled ; 
Oft  the  hoary  sea  and  grim 
Reached  its  longing  arms  to  him, 
Crying,  "  Sun-child,  come  to  me  ; 
Let  me  warm  my  heart  with  thee ! '' 
But  the  sea  calls  out  no  more ; 
It  is  winter  on  the  shore, — 
Winter,  cold  and  dark  and  wild. 

Krinken  was  a  little  child, — 
It  was  summer  when  he  j^miled; 
Down  he  went  into  the  sea. 
And  the  winter  bides  ^  with  me, 
Just  a  little  child  was  he. 

1  bides,  stays;  lives. 


LULLABY    TO    THE    FAIRY    QUEEN.  137 


XXI.     LULLABY  TO  THE   FAIRY   QUEEN. 

By  William  SiiAKEsrEAitE. 


FIRST    FAIRY. 


Y 


OU  spotted  snakes,  with  double  tongue, 
Thorny  hedgehogs,   be  not  seen ; 

Newts  and  blindworms,  do  no  wrong, 
Come  not  near  our  fairy  queen. 


Chorus.         Philomel,^  with  melody. 

Sing  in  our  sweet  lullaby; 

Lulla,  lulla,  lullaby !    lulla,  lulla,  lullaby ! 
Never  harm, 
Nor  spell,  nor  charm 

Come  our  lovely  lady  nigh; 

So,  good-night,  with  lullaby. 


SECOND    FAIRY. 


Weaving  spiders,  come  not  here ; 

Hence,  you  long-legg'd  spiders,  hence ! 
Beetles  black,  approach  not  near; 

Worm  nor  snail,  do  no  offense. 

Chorus.  Philomel,  with  melody, 

Sing  in  our  sweet  lullaby; 

^  Phil'o-mel,  tlie  nightingale. 


138 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


"  Never  harm, 
Nor  spell  nor  charm, 
Come  our  lovehj  lady  niqh  : 
So,  f/ood- flight,  with  lullabi/.*^ 


THE    HISTORY    OF    TIP-TOP.  139 


Lulla,  liilla,  lullaby !    luUa,  luUa,  lullaby ! 

Never  harm, 

Nor  spell  nor  charm, 
Come  our  lovely  lady  nigh; 
So,  good-night,  with  lullaby. 

From  "A  Midsummer  NUjIit's  Dream.'''' 


XXII.     THE   HISTORY   OF  TIP-TOP. 

By  Mrs.  IIakiiip:t  Beecheu  Stowe. 
PART   I. 

UNDER  the  window  of  a  certain  pretty  little  cot- 
tage there  grew  a  great  old  apple  tree,  which 
in  the  spring  had  thousands  and  thousands  of  lovely 
pink  blossoms  on  it,  and  in  the  autumn  had  about 
half  as  many  bright  red  apples  as  it  had  blossoms 
in  the  spring. 

The  ntirsery  of  this  cottage  was  a  little  bower  of 
a  room,  papered  with  mossy-green  paper  and  cur- 
tained with  white  muslin;  and  here  five  little 
children  used  to  come  in  their  white  nightgowns, 
to  be  dressed  and  have  their  hair  brushed  and  curled, 
every  morning. 

First,  there  were  Alice  and  Mary,  bright-eyed, 
laughing  little  girls  of  seven  and  eight  years ;  and 
then  came  stout  little  Jamie  and  Charlie ;  and  finally, 
little   Puss,    whose    real    name    was    Ellen,    but    who 


140 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


was  called  Puss,  and  Pussy,  and  Birdie,  and  Toddlie, 
and  any  other  pet  name  that  came  to  mind. 

Now   it   used  to    happen    every  morning    that  the 
five  little  heads  would  be  peeping  out  of  the  window 


^in 


together,     into      the      flowery 

boughs  of  the  apple  tree ;  and 

the    reason    was    this :    A    pair 

^^^c--Q^^        of    robins    had    built     a 

"^  ^'^(ft^   very  pretty,  smooth-lined 

4     nest  in  a  fork  of  the  limb  that  came  directly 

^  under  their  window,  and  the  building    of    this 

nest  had  been  superintended,^  day  by  day,  by  the  five 

pairs  of  bright  eyes  of  these  five  children. 

The  robins  had  at  first  been  rather  shy  cf  tliis 
inspection ;  ^  but  as  they  got  better  acquainted  they 
seemed  to  think  no  more  of  the  little  curly  heads 
in  the  window  than  of  the  pink  blossoms  about  them, 


1  su'per-in-tend'ed,  watched  with  interest. 

2  in-spec'tion,  examination ;  looking  over. 


THE    HISTORY    OF    TIP-TOP.  I4l 

or    the    daisies    and   buttercups    at    the    foot    of    the 
tree. 

All  the  little  hands  were  forward  to  help;  some 
tlirew  out  flossy  bits  of  cotton,  —  for  which,  we  grieve 
to  say,  Charlie  had  cut  a  hole  in  the  crib  quilt, 
—  and  some  threw  out  bits  of  thread  and  yarn, 
and  Alice  raveled  out  a  considerable  ^  piece  from  her 
garters,  which  she  threw  out  as  a  contribution ;  ^  and 
they  all  exulted  ^  in  seeing  the  skill  with  which  the 
little  builders  wove    everything  in. 

"Little  birds,  little  birds,"  they  would  say,  "you 
shall  be  kept  warm,  for  we  have  given  you  cotton 
out  of  our  crib  quilt  and  yarn  out  of  our  stock- 
iugs."  Nay,  so  far  did  this  generosity^  proceed  that 
Charlie  cut  a  flossy  golden  curl  from  Toddlie's  head 
and  threw  it  out ;  and  when  the  birds  caught  it  up, 
the  whole  flock  laughed  to  see  Toddlie's  golden  hair 
figuring^  in  a  bird's  nest. 

When  the  little  thing  was  finished,  it  was  so  neat, 
and  trim,  and  workman-like  that  the  children  all 
exulted  over  it  and  called  it  '^  our  nest,"  and  the 
two  robins  they  called  "  our  birds."  But  wonderful 
was  the  joy  when  the  little  eyes,  opening  one  morning, 
saw  in  the  nest  a  beautiful,  pale  green  egg;  and 
the  joy  grew  from  day  to  day,  for    every  duy  there 

1  con-sid'er-a-ble,  quite  large.       ^  ex-ult'ed,  rejoiced. 

2  con-tri-bu'tion,  gift.  4  gen-er-os'i-ty,  willingness  to  give. 

^  fig'ur-ing,  appearing. 


142  A    FOURTH    READER. 


came  another  egg,  and  so  on  till  there  were  live 
little  eggs.  "  That  makes  one  for  each  of  us,  and 
each  of  us  will  have  a  little  bird  by  and  by ; "  at 
Avhich  all  the  children  laughed  and  jumped  for  glee. 

When  the  five  little  eggs  w^ere  all  laid,  the  mother 
bird  began  to  sit  on  them ;  and  at  any  time  of  day  or 
night,  when  a  little  head  peeped  out  of  the  nursery 
Avindow,  might  be  seen  a  round,  bright,  patient  pair 
of  bird's  eyes  contentedly  waiting  for  the  yoiuig 
birds  to  come.  It  seemed  a  long  time  for  the 
children  to  wait;  but  every  day  they  put  some 
bread  and  cake  from  their  luncheon  on  the  window 
sill,  so  that  the  birds  might  have  something  to  eat; 
but  still  there  she  was  patiently  watching. 

^^How  long,  long,  long,  she  waits!"  said  Jamie, 
impatiently.  "1  don't  believe  she's  ever  going  to 
hatch." 

"Oh,  yes!  that  she  is,"  said  grave  little  Alice. 
"  Jamie,  you  do  n't  understand  about  these  things ; 
it  takes  a  long,  long  time  to  hatch  eggs.  Old  Sam 
says  his  hens  set  three  weeks,  —  only  think,  almost 
a  month." 

Three  weeks  looked  a  long  time  to  the  five  bright 
pairs  of  little  w^atching  eyes ;  but  Jamie  said  the 
eggs  were  so  much  smaller  than  hen's  eggs  that  it 
wouldn't  take  so  long  to  hatch  them,  he  knew. 
Jamie  always  thought  he  knew  all  about  everything, 
and  was  so  sure  of  it  that  he  rather  took  the  lead 


THE    HISTORY   OF    TIP-TOP.  143 


among  the  children.  But,  one  morning,  when  they 
pushed  their  five  heads  out  of  the  window,  the  round, 
patient  little  bird  eyes  were  gone,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  nothing  in  the  nest  but  a  bunch  of  somethino- 
hairy.    ^ 

Upon  this  they  all  cried  out,  ^^0  mamma!  do 
come  here !  the  bird  has  gone  and  left  her  nest ! " 
And  when  they  cried  out,  they  saw  five  wide  little 
red  mouths  open  in  the  nest,  and  saw  that  the  hairy 
bunch  of  stuff  was  indeed  the  beginning  of  five  little 
birds. 

"  They  are  dreadful-looking  things,"  said  Mary. 
"  I  did  n't  know  that  little  birds  began  by  looking 
so  badly." 

'^They  seem  to  be  all  mouth,"  said  Jamie. 

"•  We  must  feed  them,"  said  Charlie. 

"  Here,  little  birds,  here 's  some  gingerbread  for 
you,"  he  said ;  and  he  threw  a  bit  of  his  ginger- 
bread, which  fortunately  only  hit  the  nest  on  the 
outside,  and  fell  down  among  the  buttercups,  where 
two  crickets  made  a  meal  of  it,  and  agreed  that  it 
w^as  as  excellent  gingerbread  as  if  old  Mother  Cricket 
herself  had  made  it. 

"  Take  care,  Charlie !  "  said  mamma ;  "  we  do  not 
know  enough  to  feed  young  birds.  We  must  leave 
it  to  their  papa  and  mamma,  who  probably  started 
out  bright  and  early  in  the  morning  to  get  breakfast 
for  them." 


144  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Sure  enough,  while  they  were  speaking,  back 
came  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin,  whirring  through  the 
green  boughs  of  the  apple  tree ;  and  thereupon  all 
the  five  little  red  mouths  flew  open,  and  the  birds 
put  something  into  each. 

It  was  great  amusement,^  after  this,  to  watch  the 
daily  feeding  of  the  little  birds,  and  to  observe  how, 
wdien  not  feeding  them,  the  mother  sat  brooding  on 
the  nest,  warming  them  under  soft  wings,  while  the 
father  bird  sat  on  the  tiptop  bough  of  the  apple  tree. 

In  time  they  grew  and  grew ;  and  instead  of  a  nestf  ul 
of  little  red  mouths,  there  was  a  nestful  of  little  fat, 
speckled  robins,  with  round,  bright,  cunning  eyes  just 
like  their  parents';  and  the  children  began  to  talk 
together  about  their  birds. 

^^I'm  going  to  give  my  robin  a  name,"  said  Mary. 
"  I  call  him  Brown  Eyes." 

^^And  I  call  mine  Tip-Top,"  said  Jamie,  ^^  because 
I  know  he  '11  be  a  tiptop  bird." 

"And  I  call  mine  Singer,"  said  Alice. 

"  I  '11  call  mine  Toddy,"  said  little  Toddlie,  who 
would  not  be  behindhand  in  anything  that  was 
going  on. 

"Hurrah  for  Toddlie!"  said  Charlie;  "hers  is  the 
best  of  all.     For  my  part,  I  call  mine  Speckle." 

So  then  the  birds  w^ere  all  made  separate  characters 
by  having  each   a   separate  name   given  it.     Brown 

1  a-muse'ment,  fmi. 


THE    HISTORY    OF    TIP-TOP.  145 

Eyes,  Tip-Top,  Singer,  Toddy,  and  Speckle  made,  as 
they  grew  bigger,  a  very  crowded  nestful  of  birds. 

Now,  the  children  had  been  early  taught  to  say  in 
a  little  hymn, — 

''  Birds  in  their  little  nests  agree, 
And  't  is  a  shameful  sight 
When  children  of  one  family 

Fall  out,  and  chide,  and  fight,"  — 

and  they  thought  anything  really  written  or  printed 
in  a  hymn  must  be  true ;  therefore  they  were  very 
much  astonished  to  see,  from  day  to  day,  that  their 
little  birds  in  their  nest  did  not  agree. 

PART   II. 

Tip-Top  was  the  biggest  and  strongest  bird,  and 
he  was  alwa3^s  shuffling  and  crowding  the  others, 
and  clamoring  ^  for  the  most  food  ;  and  when  Mrs. 
Robin  came  in  with  a  nice  bit  of  anything,  Tij)- 
Top's  red  mouth  opened  so  wide,  and  he  was  so 
noisy,  that  one  would  think  the  nest  was  all  his. 
His  mother  used  to  correct  him  for  these  gluttonous^ 
ways,  and  sometimes  made  him  wait  till  all  the  rest 
were  helped  before  she  gave  him  a  mouthful ;  but 
he  generally  revenged  himself  in  her  absence  by 
crowding  the  others  and  making  the  nest  generally 
uncomfortable. 

1  clam'or-ing,  calling  noisily.  ^  glut'ton-ous,  greedy. 

10— 4  u 


146  A   FOURTH    READER. 


Speckle,  however,  was  a  bird  of  spirit,  and  he 
used  to  peck  at  Tip-Top ;  so  they  would  sometimes 
have  a  regular  sparring  match  across  poor  Brown 
Eyes,  who  was  a  meek,  tender  little  fellow,  and 
would  sit  blinking  and  winking  in  fear  while  his  big 
brothers  quarreled.  As  to  Toddy  and  Singer,  they 
turned  out  to  be  sister  birds,  and  showed  quite  a 
feminine  ^  talent  for  chattering.^  They  used  to  scold 
their  badly-behaving  brothers  in  a  way  that  made 
the  nest  quite  lively. 

On  the  whole,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin  did  not  find 
their  family  circle  the  peaceful  place  the  poet 
represents. 

"  I  say,"  said  Tip-Top  one  day  to  them,  ''  this  old 
nest  is  a  dull,  crowded  hole,  and  it 's  quite  time  some 
of  us  were  out  of  it ;  just  give  us  lessons  in  flying, 
won't  you,  and  let  us  go?" 

^-My  dear  boy,"  said  Mother  Robin,  "we  shall 
teach  you  to  fly  as  soon  as  your  wings  are  strong 
enough." 

"  You  are  a  very  little  bird,"  said  his  father,  "  and 
ought  to  be  good  and  obedient,  and  wait  patiently 
till  your  wing  feathers  grow ;  then  you  can  soar 
away  to   some   purpose." 

"Wait  for  my  wing  feathers?  Humbug!"  Tip- 
Top  would  say,  as  he  sat  balancing,  with  his  little  tail 

1  fem'i-nine,  of,  or  pertaining  to,  a  woman. 

2  chat'ter-ing,  talking  noisily. 


THE    HISTORY    OF    TIP-TOP.  147 


over  the  edge  of  the  nest,  looking  down  through  the 
grass  and  clover  heads  )3elow,  and  up  into  the  blue 
clouds  above.  "  Father  and  mother  are  slow  old 
birds  ;  keep  a  fellow  back  with  their  foolish  notions. 
If  they  do  n't  hurry  up,  I  '11  take  matters  into  my 
claws,  and  be  oif  some  day  before  they  know  it. 
Look  at  those  swallows,  skimming  and  diving  through 
the  blue  air.     That 's  what  I  want  to  do." 

"  But,  dear  brother,  the  way  to  learn  to  do  that 
is  to  be  good  and  obedient  while  we  are  little,  and 
wait  till  our  parents  think  it  best  for  us  to  begin.'' 

"  What  do  you  girls  know  of  flying  ? ''  said  Tip- 
Top, 

^^ About  as  much  as  you,"  said  Speckle.  "How- 
ever, I  'm  sure  I  do  n't  care  how  soon  you  take 
yourself  off;  for  you  take  up  more  room  t'han  all 
the  rest  put  together." 

"  0  my  darlings !  "  said  the  mamma,  now  fluttering 
home,  "cannot  I  ever  teach  you  to  live  in  love?" 

"It's  all  Tip-Top's  fault,"  screamed  the  other 
birds  in  a  flutter. 

"  My  fault  ?  Of  course ;  everything  that  goes  wrong 
in  this  nest  is  laid  to  me,"  said  Tip-Top;  "and  I'll 
leave  it  to  anybody,  now,  if  I  crowd  anybody.  I  've 
been  sitting  outside  on  the  very  edge  of  the  nest, 
and  there  's  Speckle  has  got  my  place." 

"Who  wants  your  place?"  said  Speckle;  "I'm 
sure  you  can  come  in  if  you  please." 


148  A   FOURTH    READER. 

"  My  dear  boy/'  said  the  mother,  "  do  go  into  the 
nest,  and  be  a  good  little  bird,  and  then  you  will 
be  happy." 

^^  That's  always  the  talk,"  said  Tip-Top.  ^^ 'm 
too  big  for  the  nest,  and  I  want  to  see  the  world. 
It's  full  of  beautiful  things,  I  know.  Now,  there's 
the  most  beautiful  creature,  wdtli  bright  eyes,  that 
comes  under  the  tree  every  day,  and  wants  me  to 
come  down  in  the  grass  and  play  with  her." 

^^My  son,  my  son,  beware!"  said  the  frightened 
mother ;  "  that  lovely-seeming  creature  is  our  .dread- 
ful enemy,  the  cat,  —  a  horrid  monster  with  teeth 
and  claws." 

At  this  all  the  little  birds  shuddered,  and  cuddled 
deeper  into  the  nest;  only  Tip-Top,  in  his  heart, 
disbelieved^  it. 

"  I  'm  too  old  a  bird,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  to  be- 
lieve that  story;  mother  is  chaffing^  me.  But  I'll 
show  her  that  I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

So  the  next  morning,  after  the  father  and  m^other 
were  gone,  Tip-Top  got  on  the  edge  of  the  nest 
again,  and  looked  over  and  saw  lovely  Miss  Pussy 
washing  her  face  among  the  daisies  under  the  tree : 
and  her  hair  was  sleek  and  as  white  as  the  daisies^  and 
her  eyes  were  yellow  and  beautiful  to  behold ;  and 
she   looked  up  to    the   tree  bewitchingly,^  and  said; 

1  dis-be-lieved',  did  not  believe.  ^  chaffing,  making  fun  of. 

^  be-witch'ing-ly,  cunningly. 


THE    HISTORY    OF    TIP-TOP.  149 

"  Little  birds,  little  birds,  come  down !     Pussy  wants 
to  play  with  you." 

"  Only  look  at  her  ! ''  said  Tip-Top ;  "  her  eyes 
are  like  gold." 

"  No,  do  n't  look,"  said  Singer  and  Speckle.  "  She 
will  bewitch  you,  and  then  eat  you  up." 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  her  try  to  eat  me  up,"  said  Tip- 
Top,  again  balancing  his  short  tail  over  the  nest. 
^'Just  as  if  she  would!  She's  just  the  nicest,  most 
innocent  creature  going,  and  only  wants  us  to  have 
fun.     We  never  do  have  any  fun  in  this  old  nest." 

Then  the  yellow  eyes  below  shot  a  bewildering^ 
light  into  Tip-Top's  eyes,  and  a  voice  sounded  sweet 
as  silver,  "  Little  birds,  little  birds,  come  down ! 
Pussy  wants  to  play  with  you." 

^^  Her  paws  are  as  white  as  velvet,"  said  Tip-Top; 
"  and  so  soft,  I  do  n't  believe  she  has  any  claws." 

"•  Do  n't  go,  brother,  do  n't !  "  screamed  both  sisters. 

All  we  know  about  it  is  that,  a  moment  after,  a 
dreadful  scream  was  heard  from  the  nursery  window. 
"  0  mamma !  do  come  here  !  Tip-Top  's  fallen  out 
of  the  nest,  and  the  cat  has  got  him." 

Away  ran  Pussy,  with  foolish  little  Tip-Top  in 
her  mouth,  and  he  squeaked  dolefully^  when  he  felt 
her  sharp  teeth.  Wicked  Miss  Pussy  had  no  mind 
to  eat  him  at  once ;  she  meant  just  as  she  said,  to 
"play  with  him."     So  she  ran  off  to  a  private  place 

^  be-wil'der-ing,  blinding;  confusing.  ^  dole'ful-ly,  sadly. 


150  ,A    FOURTH    READER. 

among  the  currant  bushes,  while  all  the  little  curly 
heads  were  scattered  up  and  down  looking  for  her. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  cat  play  with  a  bird  or  a 
mouse  ?  She  sets  it  down,  and  seems  to  go  off  and 
leave  it;  but  the  moment  it  makes  the  first  move- 
ment to  get  away,  —  pounce  !  she  springs  upon  it, 
and  shakes  it  in  her  mouth ;  and  so  she  teases  it 
and  tantalizes^  it  till  she  gets  ready  to  kill  and  eat 
it.  I  can't  say  why  she  does  it,  except  that  it  is  a 
cat's  nature ;  and  it  is  a  very  foolish,  bad  nature  for 
foolish  young  robins  to  get  acquainted  with. 

"  Oh,  where  is  he  ?  where  is  he  ?  Do  find  my  poor 
Tip-Top,"  said  Jamie,  crying  as  loud  as  he  could 
scream.     '^ '11  kill  that  horrid  cat!     I'll  kill  her!" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin,  who  had  come  home  mean- 
time, joined  their  plaintive^  chirping  to  the  general 
confusion ;  and  Mrs.  Robin's  bright  eyes  soon  discov- 
ered her  poor  little  son  where  Pussy  was  patting 
and  rolling  him  from  one  paw  to  the  other  vmder 
the  currant  bushes;  and,  settling  on  the  bush  above, 
she  called  the  little  folks  to  the  spot  by  her  cries. 

Jamie  plunged  under  the  bush  and  caught  the 
cat  with  luckless  Tip-Top  in  her  mouth ;  and  with 
one  or  two  good  thumps  he  obliged  her  to  let  him 
go.  Tip-Top  was  not  dead,  but  in  a  sadly  draggled  ^ 
and  torn  state.     Some  of  his  feathers  were  torn  out, 

^  tan'ta-liz-es,  torments.  ^  plaintive,  pitiful, 

'  drag'gled,  ruffled ;  disordered. 


THE    HISTORY    OF    TIP-TOP. 


161 


and  one  of  his  wings  was  broken,  and  hung  down 
in  a  melancholy^  way. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  for  him  ?  He  will  die. 
Poor  Tip-Top,"  said  the  children. 

^^  Let's  put  liim  back  in  tlie  nest,  children,"  said 
mamma.  "  His  mother  will  know  best  what  to  do 
with  him." 

So  a  ladder  was  got,  and  papa  climbed  up  and  put 
poor  Tip-Top  safely  into  the  nest.  The  cat  had 
shaken  all  the  nonsense  out  of  him ;  he  was  a 
dreadfully  humbled  young  robin. 

The  time  came  at  last  when  all  the  other  birds 
ui  the  nest  learned  to  fly,  and  they  fluttered  and 
flew  about  everywliere ;  but  poor,  melancholy  Tip- 
Top  was  still  confined  to  the  nest  with  a  broken 
wing.  Finally,  as  it  became  evident  that  it  would 
be  long  before  he  could  fly,  Jamie  took  him  out  of 
the  nest  and  made  a  nice  little  cage  for  him,  and 
used  to  feed  him  every  day ;  and  he  would  hop 
about,  and  seemed  tolerably  -  contented ;  but  it  was 
evident  he  would  be  a  lame-winged  robin  all  his  days. 

1  mel'an-chol-y,  sad.  ^  torer-a-bly,  fairly  well. 


162  A   FOURTH    READER. 


XXIII.     ROBERT   LOUIS   STEVENSON. 

ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON,  though  he  lived 
to  be  a  great  man,  never  ceased  to  be  a  boy ; 
that  is,  his  heart  was  always  young.  For  most  of 
his  life  he  was  an  invalid,  continually  suffering  pain ; 
yet  he  loved  to  be  out  of  doors,  loved  to  play  with 
children,  loved  all  nature,  and  was  almost  always 
cheerful  in  spite  of  his  troubles. 

His  home  was  in  Scotland,  and  he  dearly  loved  it; 
yet  because  of  his  poor  health  he  had  to  leave  most 
of  his  friends,  leave  his  native  land,  and  go  to  live 
on  the  island  of  Samoa,  away  out  in  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  where  the  people  are  only  half  civilized.  But 
here  he  and  his  brave  family  built  them  a  home,  and 
did  very  much  to  teach  the  poor  people  of  the  island 
how  to  take  better  care  of  themselves,  and  how  to 
live  more  wisely. 

Mr.  Stevenson  wrote  many  books,  most  of  them 
stories  which  boys  love  to*  read,  full  of  adventure  and 
life.  He  also  wrote  a  number  of  poems,  some  of 
which  are  here  given. 

After  living  on  the  island  of  Samoa  for  several 
years,  at  last  the  disease  which  had  pursued  him 
from  England  mastered  him,  and  he  died ;  that  is, 
his  body  died ;  but  Stevenson  will  never  die,  so  long 
as  people  read  and  love  his  books. 


ROBERT    LOUIS    STEVENSON.  153 


ROBERT    LOUIS    STEVENSON. 


154 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


XXIV.     THE   WIND. 


By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


SAW  you  toss  the  kites  on  high, 
And  blow  the  birds  about  the  sky; 
And  all  around  I  heard  you  pass, 
Like  ladies'  skirts  across  the  grass,  — 

0  wind,  a-blowing  all  day  long ! 

0  wind,  that  sings  so  loud  a  song  I 

I  saw  the  different  things  yovi  did, 
But  always  you  yourself  you  hid. 
I  felt  you  push,  I  heard  you  call, 
V\  '^^  >,  \    I  could  not  see  yourself  at  all,  — ■ 
'  ^  ^  ^       0  wind,  a-blowing  all  day  long ! 

0  wind,  that  sings  so  loud  a  song! 

0  you  that  are  so  strong  and  cold! 

S=^^^  0  blower!  are  you  young*  or  old? 

Are  you  a  beast  of  field  and  tree, 

1}  Or  just  a  stronger  child  than  me  ? 

0  wind,  a-blowing  all  day  long! 

0  wind,  that  sings  so  loud  a  song! 


NIGHT    AND    DAY. 


156 


XXV.     NIGHT   AND    DAY. 

By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

HEN  the  golden  day  is  done, 
Through  the  closing  portal^^ 
'1^  Child  and  garden,  flower  and 
sun, 
Vanish  all  things  mortal. 

As  the  blinding  shadows  fall, 

As  the  rays  diminish, 
Under  the  evening's  cloak  they  all 

Roll  away  and  vanish. 
Garden  darkened,  daisy  shut. 

Child  in  bed,  they  slumber ;  — 
Glowworm  in  the  highway  rut, 

Mice  among  the  lumber. 

In  the  darkness  houses  shine. 

Parents  move  with  candles; 
Till  on  all,  the  night  divine 

Turns  the  bedroom  handles. 
Till  at  last  the  day  begins 
.    In  the  east  a-breaking,  . 
In  the  hedges  and  the  whins  ^ 

Sleeping  birds  awaking. 


^  por'tal,  door  or  gate. 


whins,  thorny  shrubs. 


156  A    FOURTH    READER. 

In  the  darkness,  shapes  of  things  — 

Houses,  trees,  and  hedges  — ■ 
Clearer  grow ;  and  sparrows'  wdngs 

Beat  on  window  ledges. 
These  shall  wake  the  yawning  maid ; 

She  the  door  shall  open,  — 
Finding  dew  on  garden  glade,^ 

And  the  morning  broken. 

There  my  garden  grows  again 

Green  and  rosy  painted, 
As  at  eve,  behind  the  pane. 

From  my  eyes  it  fainted. 
Just  as  it  was  shut  away. 

Toy-like,  in  the  even. 
Here  I  see  it  glow,  with  day 

Underglowing  heaven. 

Every  path  and  every  plot, 

Every  bush  of  roses, 
Every  blue  forget-me-not. 

Where  the  dew  reposes, — 
"  Up !  "  they  cry,  "  the  day  is  come 

On  the  smiling  valleys : 
We  have  beat  the  morning  drum ; 

Playmate,  join  your  allies !  "  ^ 

1  glade,  an  open  space  in  a  forest.        '^  allies,  friends ;  associates. 


NEST    EGGS. 


157 


XXVI.     NEST    EGGS. 

By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


IRDS  all  the  sunny  day 

Flutter  and  quarrel 
Here  in  the  arbor-like 

Tent  of  the  laurel. 

Here  in  the  fork 

The  brown  nest  is  seated; 
Four  little  blue  eggs 

The  mother  keeps  heated. 

While  we  stand  watching  her, 

Staring  like  gabies/ 
Safe  in  each  egg  are  the 

Bird's  little  babies. 


Soon  the  frail  eggs  they  shall 
Chip,  and,  upspringing, 

^  ga'bies,  silly  people. 


158  A    FOURTH    READER. 


Make  all  the  April  woods 
Merry  with  singing. 

Younger  than  we  are, 
0  children !  and  frailer ; 

Soon  in  blue  air  they  '11  be 
Singer  and  sailor. 

We,  so  much  older, 
Taller,  and  stronger; 

We  shall  look  down  on  the 
Birdies  no  longer. 

They  shall  go  flying. 
With  musical  speeches, 

High  overhead  in  the 
Tops  of  the  beeches. 

In  spite  of  our  wisdom 
And  sensible  talking. 

We  on  our  feet  must  go 
Plodding  and  walking. 


'i^^^Ii-' 


THE    WATER    BABIES. 


159 


XXVII.    THE   WATER   BABIES. 

By  Charles  Kingsley. 


CHAPTER  I. 

|NCE  upon  a  time  there  was 
a  little  chimney  sweep,  and 
his  name  was  Tom.  That  is  a 
short  name,  and  you  have  heard 
it  before,  so  you  will  not  have 
much  trouble  in  remembering  it. 
He  lived  in  a  great  town  in  the 
North  country,  where  there  were 
plenty  of  chimneys  to  sweep,  and 
plenty  of  money  for  Tom  to 
earn  and  his  master  to  spend. 

He  could  not  read  nor  wTite, 
and  did  not  care  to  do  either; 
and  he  never  washed  himself,  for 
there  was  no  water  up  the  court 
where  he  lived.  He  had  never 
been  taught  to  say  his  prayers.  He  never  had  heard 
of  God,  or  of  Christ,  except  in  words  which  you 
•never  have  heard,  and  which  it  would  have  been  well 
if  he  had  never  heard. 

He  cried  half  his  time,  and  laughed  the  other  half. 
He  cried  when  he  had  to  climb  the  dark  flues,  rub- 


160  A    FOURTH    READER. 

bing  his  poor  knees  and  elbows  raw ;  and  when  the 
soot  got  into  his  eyes,  which  it  did  every  day  in  the 
week ;  and  when  his  master  beat  him,  which  he 
did  every  day  in  the  week ;  and  when  he  had  not 
enough  to  eat,  which  happened  every  day  in  the  week 
likewise. 

And  he  laughed  the  other  half  of  the  day,  w^hen 
he  was  tossing  half-pennies  with  the  other  boys,  or 
playing  leapfrog  over  the  posts,  or  bowling  stones 
at  the  horses'  legs  as  they  trotted  by  ;  which  last  was 
excellent  fun,  when  there  was  a  w^all  at  hand  behind 
which  to  hide. 

As  for  chimney  sweeping,  and  being  hungry,  and 
being  beaten,  he  took  all  that  for  the  way  of  the 
world,  like  the  rain  and  snow  and  thunder,  and 
stood  manfully  with  his  back  to  it  till  it  was  over, 
as  his  old  donkey  did  to  a  hailstorm  ;  and  then  shook 
his  ears  and  was  as  jolly  as  ever  ;  and  thought  of 
the  fine  times  coming,  when  he  would  be  a  man,  and 
a  master-sweep,  and  sit  in  the  public,  house  with 
a  quart  of  beer  and  a  long  pipe,  and  play  cards 
for  silver  money,  and  wear  velveteens  and  ankle- 
jacks,  and  keep  a  white  bulL-dog  with  one  gray  ear, 
and  carry  her  puppies  in  his  pocket,  just  like  a  man. 
And  he  would  have  apprentices,^  one,  two,  three,  if 
he  could. 

How  he  would  l)ully  them,  and  knock  them  about, 

^  ap-pren  ti-ces,  persons  bound  by  law  to  do  service. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  161 

just  as  his  master  did  him ;  and  make  them  carry 
home  the  soot  sacks^  while  he  rode  before  them  on 
his  donkey  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  a  flower 
in  his  buttonhole,  like  a  king  at  the  head  of  his 
army.  .Yes,  there  w^ere  good  times  coming ;  and 
when  his  master  let  him  have  a  pull  at  the  leavings 
of  his  beer,  Tom  was  the  j oiliest  boy  in  the  whole 
town. 

One  day  a  smart  little  groom  rode  into  the  court 
where  Tom  lived.  Tom  was  hiding  behind  a  w^all 
to  heave  half  a  brick  at  his  horse's  leg,  as  is  the  cus- 
tom of  that  country  when  they  welcome  strangers ;  but 
the  groom  saw  him,  and  hallooed  to  him  to  know 
where  Mr.  Grimes,  the  chimney  sweep,  lived.  Now, 
Mr.  Grimes  was  Tom's  own  master,  and  Tom  w^as  a 
good  man  of  business,  and  always  civil  to  customers ; 
so  he  put  the  half-brick  down  quietly  behind  the 
wall,  and  proceeded  to  take  orders. 

Mr.  Grimes  was  to  come  up  next  morning  to  Sir 
John  Harthover's,  at  the  Place,  for  his  old  chimney 
sweep  was  gone  to  prison,  and  the  chimneys  wanted 
sweeping.  And  so  he  rode  away,  not  giving  Tom 
time  to  ask  what  the  sweep  had  gone  to  prison  for, 
which  was  a  matter  of  interest  to  Tom,  as  he  had 
been  in  prison  once  or  twice  himself. 

Moreover,  the  groom  looked  so  very  neat  and 
clean,  with  his  drab  gaiters,  drab  breeches,  drab 
jacket,  snow-white  tie  with  a  smart   pin   in  it,  and 


162  A    FOQRTH    READER. 

clean  round  ruddy  face,  that  Tom  was  offended  and 
disgusted  at  his  appearance,  and  considered  him  a 
stuck-up  fellow,  who  gave  himself  airs  because  he 
wore  smart  clothes,  and  other  people  paid  for  them ; 
and  went  behind  the  wall  to  fetch  the  half-brick 
after  all,  but  did  not,  remembering  that  he  had 
come  in  the  way  of  business,  and  was,  as  it  were, 
under  a  flag  of  truce. 

His  master  was  so  delighted  at  his  new  customer 
that  he  knocked  Tom  down  out  of  hand,  and  drank 
more  beer  that  night  than  he  usually  did  in  two, 
in  order  to  be  sure  of  getting  up  in  time  the  next 
morning;  for  the  more  a  man's  head  aches  when 
he  wakes,  the  more  glad  he  is  to  turn  out  and 
have  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  And  when  he  did 
get  up  at  four  the  next  morning,  he  knocked  Tom 
down  again  in  order  to  teach  him  (as  young  gentle- 
men used  to  be  taught  at  public  schools)  that  he 
must  be  an  extra  good  boy  that  day,  as  they  were 
going  to  a  very  great  house,  and  might  make  a  very 
good  thing  of  it  if  they  could  but  give  satisfaction. 

And  Tom  thought  so  likewise,  and,  indeed,  would 
have  done  and  behaved  his  best,  even  without  being 
knocked  down.  For,  of  all  places  upon  earth.  Hart- 
hover  Place  (which  he  had  never  seen)  was  the  most 
wonderful ;  and  of  all  men  on  earth  Sir  John 
(whom  he  had  seen,  having  been  sent  to  jail  by 
him  twice)  was  the  most  awful. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  163 

Harthover  Place  was  really  a  grand  place,  even 
for  the  rich  North  country;  with  a  house  so  large 
that  in  the  frame-breaking  riots,  which  Tom  could 
just  remember,  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  with  ten 
thousand  soldiers  and  cannon  to  match,  were  easily 
housed  therein,  —  at  least,  so  Tom  believed  ;  with  a 
park  full  of  deer,  which  Tom  believed  to  be  monsters 
who  were  in  the  habit  of  eating  children ;  with  miles 
of  game  preserves,^  in  which  Mr.  Grimes  and  the 
collier  lads  poached  ^  at  times,  on  which  occasions  Tom 
saw  pheasants,  and  wondered  what  they  tasted  like; 
with  a  noble  salmon  river,  in  which  Mr.  Grimes  and 
his  friends  would  have  liked  to  poach,  —  but  then 
they  must  have  got  into  cold  water,  and  that  they  did 
not  like  at  all. 

In  short,  Harthover  was  a  grand  place,  and  Sir 
John  a  grand  old  man,  whom  even  Mr.  Grimes  re- 
spected, for  not  only  could  he  send  Mr.  Grimes  to 
prison  when  he  deserved  it,  as  he  did  once  or  twice 
a  week;  not  only  did  he  own  all  the  land  about 
for  miles;  not  only  was  he  a  jolly,  honest,  sensible 
squire  as  ever  kept  a  pack  of  hounds,  who  would 
do  what  he  thought  right  by  his  neighbors  as  well 
as  get  what  he  thought  right  for  himself ;  but,  what 
was  more,  he  weighed  full  fifteen  stone,  was  nobody 

^  game  preserves,  places  where  game  is  kept  for  the  private  shoot- 
ing of  some  wealthy  person. 

2  poached,  stole  game  from  a  preserve. 


164  A   FOURTH   READER. 

knew  how  many  inches  round  the  chest,  and  could 
have  thrashed  Mr.  Grimes  himself  in  fair  fight, 
which  very  few  folk  round  there  could  do,  and  which, 
my  dear  little  boy,  would  not  have  been  right  for 
him  to  do,  as  a  great  many  things  are  not  which 
one  both  can  do  and  would  like  very  much  to  do. 

So  Mr.  Grimes  touched  his  hat  to  him  when  he 
rode  through  the  town,  and  called  him  a  ^^buirdly 
awd  chap,"  \  and  his  young  ladies  "  gradely  lasses,"  ^ 
—  which  are  two  high  compliments  in  the  North 
country,  —  and  thought  that  that  made  up  for  his 
poaching  Sir  John's  pheasants. 

Now,  I  dare  say  you  never  got  up  at  three  o'clock 
on  a  midsummer  morning. 

Some  people  get  up  then  because  they  want  to 
catch  salmon  ;  and  some,  because  they  want  to  climb 
Alps;  and  a  great  many  more,  because  they  musi^ 
like  Tom.  But  I  assure  you  that  three  o'clock  on 
a  midsummer  morning  is  the  pleasantest  time  of 
all  the  twenty-four  hours,  and  all  the  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  days ;  and  why  every  one  does  not 
get  up  then,  I  never  could  tell,  save  that  they  are 
all  determined  to  spoil  their  nerves  and  their  com- 
plexions by  doing  all  night  what  they  might  just 
as  well  do  all    day. 

But  Tom  went  to  bed  at  seven,  when  his  master 

1  "buirdly  awd  chap."  stout  old  fellow. 

2  *'  gradely  lasses."  willing  girls. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  165 

went  to  the  public  house,  and  slept  like  a  dead  pig ; 
for  which  reason  he  was  as  piert  ^  as  a  gamecock 
(who  always  gets  up  early  to  wake  the  maids),  and 
just  ready  to  get  up  when  the  fine  gentlemen  and 
ladies  were  just  ready  to  go  to  bed. 

CHAPTER   II. 

SO  he  and  his  master  set  out;  Grimes  rode  the 
donkey  in  front,  and  Tom  and  the  brushes 
walked  behind;  out  of  the . court,  and  up  the  street, 
past  the  closed  window  shutters  and  the  winking, 
weary  policemen,  and  the  roofs  all  shining  gray  in  the 
gray  dawn. 

They  passed  through  the  pitmen's  village,  all 
shut  up  and  silent  now,  and  through  the  turnpike ; 
and  then  they  were  ovit  in  the  real  country,  and 
plodding  along  the  black  dusty  road,  between  black 
slag  walls,  with  no  sound  but  the  groaning  and 
thumping  of  the  pit  engine  in  the  next  field. 

But  soon  the  road  grew  white  and  the  walls 
likewise ;  and  at  the  wall's  foot  grew  long  grass 
and  gay  flowers,  all  drenched  with  dew  ;  and  instead 
of  the  groaning  of  the  pit  engine,  they  heard  the 
skylark  saying  his  matins^  high  up  in  the  air,  and 
the  pit-bird  warbling  in  the  sedges,^  as  he  had  warbled 
all  night  long. 

1  piert,  active.  ^  mat'ins,  morning  prayers. 

8  sedges,  marshes  covered  with  water  plants. 


166  A   FOURTH    READER. 

All  else  was  silent,  for  old  Mrs.  Earth  was  still 
fast  asleep  ;  and,  like  many  pretty  people,  she  looked 
still  prettier  asleep  than  awake. 

The  great  elm  trees  in  the  gold-green  meadows 
were  fast  asleep  above,  and  the  cows  fast  asleep 
beneath  them ;  nay,  the  few  clouds  which  were 
about  were  fast  asleep  likewise,  and  so  tired  that 
they  had  lain  down  on  the  earth  to  rest,  in  long 
white  flakes  and  bars,  among  the  stems  of  the  elm 
trees  and  along  the  tops  of  the  alders  by  the  stream, 
waiting  for  the  sun  to  bid  them  rise  and  go  about 
their  day's  business  in  the  clear  blue  overhead. 

On  they  went ;  and  Tom  looked,  and  looked,  —  for 
he  never  had  been  so  far  into  the  country  before,  — 
and  longed  to  get  over  a  gate,  and  pick  buttercups, 
and  look  for  birds'  nests  in  the  hedge ;  but  Mr. 
Grimes  was  a  man  of  business,  and  would  not  have 
heard  of  that. 

Soon  they  came  up  with  a  poor  Irishwoman, 
trudging  along  with  a  bundle  at  her  back.  She 
had  a  gray  shawl  over  her  head,  and  a  crimson 
madder  ^  petticoat ;  so  you  may  be  sure  she  came 
from  Galway.  She  had  neither  shoes  nor  stockings, 
and  limped  along  as  if  she  were  tired  and  footsore  ; 
but  she  was  a  very  tall,  handsome  woman,  with 
bright  gray  eyes,  and  heavy  black  hair  hanging 
about  her  cheeks.     And  she  took  Mr.  Grimes's  fancy 

^  mad'der,  a  red  dye. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  167 

SO  much  that  when  he  came  alongside  he  called 
out  to  her,  — 

''  This  is  a  hard  road  for  a  gradely  foot  like  that. 
Will  ye  up,  lass,  and  ride  behind  me  ?  " 

But  perhaps  she  did  not  admire  Mr.  Grimes's  look 
a.nd   voice,  for  she  answered  quietly,  — 

"  No,  thank  you  ;  I  'd  sooner  walk  with  your 
little  lad  here." 

"  You  may  please  yourself,"  growled  Grimes,  and 
went  on  smoking. 

So  she  walked  beside  Tom,  and  talked  to  him, 
and  asked  him  where  he  lived,  and  what  he  knew, 
and  all  about  himself,  till  Tom  thought  he  had 
never  met  such  a  pleasant-spoken  woman.  And  she 
asked  him  at  last  wdiether  he  said  his  prayers;  and 
seemed  sad  when  he  told  her  that  he  knew  no 
prayers  to  say. 

Then  he  asked  her  where  she  lived  ;  and  she  said, 
"  Far  away  by  the  sea."  And  Tom  asked  her  about 
the  sea;  and  she  told  him  how  it  rolled  and  roared 
over  the  rocks  in  winter  nights,  and  lay  still  in 
the  bright  summer  days  for  the  children  to  bathe 
and  play  in  it ;  and  many  a  story  more,  till  Tom 
longed  to  go  and  see  the  sea,  and  bathe  in  it 
likewise. 

At  last,  at  the  bottom  of  a  hill,  they  came  to  a 
spring,  -^  a  real  North  country  limestone  fountain, 
like  one  of  those  in  Sicily  or  Greece,  where   the  old 


168  A   FOURTH    READER. 

heathen  fancied  the  nymphs^  sat  cooHng  themselves 
through  the  hot  summer's  day,  while  the  shepherds 
peeped  at  them  from  behind  the  bushes. 

Out  of  a  low  cave  of  rock  at  the  foot  of  a  lime- 
stone crag,  the  great  fountain  rose,  quelling,^  and 
bubbling,  and  gurgling,  so  clear  that  you  could  not 
tell  where  the  water  ended  and  the  air  began  ;  and 
ran  away  under  the  road,  a  stream  large  enough 
to  turn  a  mill,  among  blue  geranium,  and  golden 
globe-flower,  and  wild  raspberry,  and  the  bird  cherry 
with  its  tassels  of  snow. 

And  there  Grimes  stopped  and  looked,  and  Tom 
looked  too.  Tom  was  wondering  whether  anything 
lived  in  that  dark  cave,  and  came  out  at  night  to 
fly  in  the  meadows.  But  Grimes  was  not  wondering 
at  all.  Without  a  word  he  got  off  his  donkey  and 
clambered  over  the  low  road  w^all,  and  knelt  down 
and  began  dipping  his  ugly  head  into  the  spring, 
and  very  dirty  he  made  it. 

Tom  was  picking  the  flowers  as  fast  as  he  could. 
The  Irishwoman  helped  him,  and  showed  him  how 
to  tie  tliem  up ;  and  a  very  pretty  nosegay  they  had 
made  between  them.  But  when  he  saw  Grimes 
actually  wash^  'he  stopped,  quite  astonished ;  and 
when  Grimes  had  finished,  and  began  shaking  his 
ears  to  dry  them,  he  said : 

^  nymph,  a  goddess  of  the  woods  and  waters. 
2  queU'ing,  becoming  still. 


THE    WATER   BABIES.  169 


"  Why^  master,  I  never  saw  you  do  that  before." 

"Nor  will  again,  most  likely.  'T  was  n't  for 
cleanliness  I  did  it,  but  for  coolness.  I  'd  be  ashamed 
to  want  washing  every  week  or  so,  like  any  smutty 
collier  lad." 

"  I  wish  I  might  go  and  dip  my  head  in,"  said 
poor  little  Tom.  "  It  must  be  as  good  as  putting 
it  under  the  town  pump  ;  and  there  is  no  beadle  ^ 
here  to  drive  a  chap  away." 

"  Thou  come  along,"  said  Grimes.  "  What  dost 
want  with  washing  thyself  ?  Thou  did  not  drink 
half  a  gallon  of  beer  last  night,  like  me." 

Grimes  was  very  sulky  because  the  woman  pre- 
ferred Tom's  company  to  his ;  so  he  dashed  at 
him  with  horrid  words,  and  tore  him  up  from  his 
knees,  and  began  beating  him.  But  Tom  was  accus- 
tomed to  that,  and  got  his  head  safe  between  Mr. 
Grimes's  legs,  and  kicked  his  shins  with  all  his 
might. 

"  Are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself,  Thomas 
Grimes  ?  "  cried  the  Irishwoman  over  the  wall. 

Grimes  looked  up,  startled  at  her  knowing  his 
name ;  but  all  he  answered  was,  "  No ;  nor  never 
was  yet,"  and  went  on  beating  Tom. 

"  True  for  you.  If  you  ever  had  been  ashamed  of 
yourself,  you  would  have  gone  over  into  Vendale 
long  ago." 

^  bea'dle,  an  officer. 


170  A    FOURTH    READER. 

"  What  -do  you  know  about  Vendale  ? "  shouted 
Grimes ;  but  he  left  off  beating  Tom. 

"  I  know  about  Vendale,  and  about  you,  too.  I 
know,  for  instance,  what  happened  in  Aldermire 
Copse,^  by  night,  two  years  ago  come  Martinmas."'^ 

^fYou  do?"  shouted  Grimes,  and,  leaving  Tom, 
climbed  up  over  the  wall  and  faced  the  woman. 
Tom  thought  he  was  going  to  strike  her ;  but  she 
looked  him  too  full  and  fierce  in  the  face  for  that. 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  there,"  said  the  Irishwoman,  quietly. 

"  You  are  no  Irishwoman,  by  your  speech,"  said 
Grimes,  after  many  bad  words. 

"  Never  mind  who  I  am.  I  saw  what  I  saw;  and 
if  you  strike  that  boy  again,  I  can  tell  what  I 
know." 

Grimes  seemed  quite  cowed,^  and  got  on  his  donkey 
without  another  word. 

^^  Stop ! "  said  the  Irishwoman.  '^1  have  one 
more  word  for  you  both  ;  for  you  will  both  see  me 
again  before  all  is  over.  Those  that  wish  to  be 
clean,  clean  they  will  be ;  and  those  that  wish  to  be 
foul,  foul  they  will  be.     Remember !  " 

And  she  turned  away,  and  through  a  gate  into 
the  meadow.  Grimes  stood  still  a  moment,  like  a 
man  who  had  been  stunned.     Then  he  rushed  after 


^  copse,  a  wood  consisting  of  small  trees. 

2  Mar'tin-mas,  the  feast  of  St.  JMartin,  November  11. 

8  cowed,  frif^htened. 


THE    WATER   BABIES.  171 

her,  shouting,  "  You  come  back !  "  but  when  he  got 
into  the  meadow  the  woman  was  not  there. 

Had .  she  hidden  away  ?  There  was  no  place  to 
hide  in.  But  Grimes  looked  about,  and  Tom  also, 
for  he  was  as  puzzled  as  Grimes  himself  at  her  dis- 
appearing so  suddenly;  but  look  where  they  would, 
she  was  not  there. 

Grimes  came  back  again,  as  silent  as  a  post,  for 
he  was  a  little  frightened  ;  and  getting  on  his  donkey, 
filled  a  fresh  pipe  and  smoked  away,  leaving  Tom 
in  peace. 

CHAPTER  III. 

AND  now  they  had  gone  three  miles  and  more, 
and  came  to  Sir  John's  lodge  gates. 

Very  grand  lodges  they  were,  with  very  grand  iron 
gates,  and  stone  gate  posts,  and  on  the  top  of  each  a 
most  dreadful  bogy,^  all  teeth,  horns,  and  tail,  which 
was  the  crest  which  Sir  John's  ancestors^  wore  in  the 
Wars  of  the  Roses ;  ^  and  very  prudent  men  they  were 
to  wear  it,  for  all  their  enemies  must  have  run  for 
their  lives  at  the  very  first  sight  of  them. 

Grimes  rang  at  the  gate,  and  out  came  a  keeper 
on  the  spot,  and  opened. 

1  bo'-gy,  goblin,  monster. 

2  an'-ces-tors,  parents  and  grandparents ;  forefathers. 

3  "Wars  of  the  Roses,"  a  famous  series  of  wars  between  two  great 
families,  the  head  of  each  of  which  claimed  the  right  to  be  king  of 
England.  Each  family  had  a  rose  for  its  symbol;  one  red.  the  other 
white. 


172  A    FOURTH    READER. 

"  I  was  told  to  expect  thee/'  said  he.  "  Now, 
thou  'It  be  so  good  as  to  keep  to  the  main  avenue, 
and  not  let  me  find  a  hare  or  a  rabbit  on  thee  when 
thou  comest  back.  I  shall  look  sharp  for  one,  I 
tell  thee." 

"  Not  if  it 's  in  the  bottom  of  the  soot  bag,"  quoth 
Grimes,  and  at  that  he  laughed;  and  the  keeper 
laughed  and  said, — 

^*If  that's  thy  sort,  I  may  as  well  walk  up  with 
thee  to  the  hall." 

"1  think  thou  best  had.  It's  thy  business  to  see 
after  thy  game,  man,  and  not  mine." 

So  the  keeper  went  with  them;  and,  to  Tom's 
surprise,  he  and  Grimes  chatted  together  all  the  way 
quite  pleasantly.  He  did  not  know  that  a  keeper  is 
only  a  poacher  turned  outside  in,  and  a  poacher  a 
keeper  turned  inside  out. 

They  walked  up  a  great  lime  avenue  a  full  mile 
long,  and  between  their  stems  Tom  peeped  trembling 
at  the  horns  of  the  sleeping  deer,  which  stood  up 
among  the  ferns.  Tom  had  never  seen  such  enor- 
mous ^  trees,  and  as  he  looked  up  he  fancied  that  the 
blue  sky  rested  on  their  heads.  But  he  was  puzzled 
very  much  by  a  strange  murmuring  noise,  which 
followed  them  all  the  way;  so  much  puzzled  that 
at  last  he  took  courage  to  ask  the  keeper  what 
it  was. 

^  e  nor 'mo  us,  very  large. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  173 

He  spoke  very  civilly,  and  called  him  Sir;  for  he 
was  horribly  afraid  of  him,  which  pleased  the  keeper, 
and  he  told  him  that  they  were  the  bees  about  the 
lime  flowers. 

'' What  are  bees  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

'^  What  make  honey." 

"  What  is  honey  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Thou  hold  thy  noise/'  said  Grimes. 

^^Let  the  boy  be/'. said  the  keeper.  "He's  a  civil 
young  chap  now,  and  that 's  more  than  he  '11  be  long 
if  he  bides  with  thee." 

Grimes  laughed,  for  he  took  that  for  a  compliment.^ 

"I  wish  I  were  a  keeper,"  said  Tom,  "to  live  in 
such  a  beautiful  place,  and  wear  green  velveteens,^ 
and  have  a  real  dog-whistle  at  my  button,  like 
you." 

The  keeper  laughed ;  he  was  a  kind-hearted  fellow 
enough. 

"Let  well  alone,  lad,  and  ill  too  at  times.  Thy 
life  '.'J  safer  than  mine  at  all  events,  eh,  Mr. 
Grimes  ?  " 

And  Grimes  laughed  again ;  and  then  the  two  men 
began  talking  quite  low.  Tom  could  hear,  though, 
that  it  was  about  some  poaching  fight;  and  at  last 
Grimes  said  surlily, 

"  Hast  thou  anything  against  me  ?  " 

1  com'pli-ment,  praise;  pleasant  speech. 

2  vel-vet-eens',  clothes  made  of  velveteen,  a  kind  of  cloth. 


174  A    FOURTH    READER. 


"Not  now." 

"Then  don't  ask  me  any  questions  till  thou  hast^ 
for  I  am  a  man  of  honor." 

And  at  that  they  both  laughed  again,  and  thought 
it  a  very  good  joke. 

And  by  this  time  they  were  come  up  to  the  great 
iron  gates  in  front  of  the  house,  and  Tom  stared 
through  them  at  the  rhododendrons  and  azaleas, 
which  were  all  in  flower,  and  then  at  the  house 
itself,  and  wondered  how  many  chimneys  there  were 
in  it,  and  how  long  ago  it  was  built,  and  what  was 
the  man's  name  that  built  it,  and  whether  he  got 
much  money  for  his  job. 

These  last  were  very  difficult  questions  to  answer. 
For  Harthover  had  been  built  at  ninety  different 
times,  and  in  nineteen  different  styles,  and  looked 
as  if  somebody  had  built  a  whole  street  of  houses  of 
every  imaginable^  shape,  and  then  stirred  them 
together   with   a   spoon. 

But  Tom  and  his  master  did  not  go  in  through  the 
great  iron  gates,  as  if  they  had  been  Dukes  or  Bish- 
ops, but  round  the  back  way,  and  a  very  long  way 
round  it  was,  —  and  into  a  little  back  door,  where 
the  ash  boy  let  them  in,  yawning  horribly.  And  then 
in  a  passage  the  housekeeper  met  them,  in  such  a 
flowered  chintz^  dressing-gown  that  Tom  mistook  her 

^  im-ag'i-na-ble,  that  can  be  thought  of. 
2  chintz,  cotton  cloth ;  calico. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  175 

for  My  Lady  herself;  and  she  gave  Grmies  solemn 
orders  about,  "  You  will  take  care  of  this,  and  take 
care  of  that,"  as  if  he  was  going  up  the  chimneys, 
and  not  Tom.  And  Grimes  listened,  and  said  every 
now  and  then,  under  his  voice,  ^'You'll  mind  that, 
you  little  beggar?"  and  Tom  did  mind,  —  all  at 
least  that  he  could. 

And  then  the  housekeeper  turned  them  into  a 
grand  room  all  covered  up  in  sheets  of  brown  paper, 
and  bade  them  begin,  in  a  lofty  and  tremendous^ 
voice ;  and  so,  after  a  whimper  or  two  and  a  kick 
from  his  master,  into  the  grate  Tom  went,  and  up 
the  chimney,  while  a  housemaid  stayed  in  the  room 
to  watch  the  furniture;  to  whom  Mr.  Grimes  paid 
many  playful  and  chivalrous  ^  compliments,  but  met 
with  very  slight  encouragement  in  return. 

CHAPTER   ly. 

HOW  many  chimneys  Tom  swept  T  cannot  say ; 
but  he  swept  so  many  that  he  got  quite  tired, 
and  puzzled  too,  for  they  were  not  like  the  town  flues 
to  which  he  was  accustomed,^  but  such  as  you  would 
find  —  if  you  would  only  get  up  them  and  look,  which 
perhaps  you  would  not  like  to  do  —  in  old  country 
houses,  large  and  crooked  chimneys,  which  had  been 

j^  tre-men'dous,  terrible  ;  very  great. 
2  chiv'al-rous,  knightly;  polite. 
^  ac-cus'tomed,  used  to. 


176  A   FOURTH    READER. 

altered  again  and  again,  till  they  ran  one  into  an- 
other, so  that  Tom  fairly  lost  his  way  in  them ;  not 
that  he  cared  much  for  that,  though  he  was  in  pitchy 
darkness,  for  he  was  as  much  at  home  in  a  chimney  as  a 
mole  is  underground.  But  at  last,  coming  down  as  he 
thought  the  right  chinmey,  he  came  down  the  wrong 
one,  and  found  himself  standing  on  the  hearthrug  in  a 
room  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  been  in  before. 

Tom  had  never  seen  the  like.  He  had  never  been 
in  gentlefolks'  rooms  but  when  the  carpets  were  all 
up,  and  the  curtains  down,  and  the  furniture  huddled 
together  under  a  cloth,  and  the  pictures  covered  with 
aprons  and  dusters;  and  he  had  often  enough  won- 
dered what  the  rooms  were  like  when  they  were  all 
ready  for  the  quality*  to  sit  in.  And  now  he  saw, 
and  he  thought  the  sight  very  pretty. 

The  room  was  all  dressed  in  white  :  white  window 
curtains,  white  bed  curtains,  white  furniture,  and 
white  walls,  with  just  a  few  lines  of  pink  here  and 
there.  The  carpet  w^as  all  over  gay  little  flowers,  and 
the  walls  were  hung  with  pictures  in  gilt  frames, 
which  amused  Tom  very  much.  There  were  pictures 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  pictures  of  horses  and 
dogs. 

The  horses  he  liked ;  but  the  dogs  he  did  not  care 
for  much,  for  there  were  no  bulldogs  among  them, 
not  even  a  terrier.     But  the  two  pictures  which  took 

*  quaV-i-ty,  rich  or  noble  people. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  177 


his  fancy  most  were :  one,  a  man  in  long  garments, 
with  little  children  and  their  mothers  round  him,  who 
was  laying  his  hand  upon  the  children's  heads. 

That  was  a  very  pretty  picture,  Tom  thought,  to 
hang  in  a  lady's  room.  For  he  could  see  that  it  was 
a  lady's  room  by  the  dresses  which  lay  about. 

The  other  picture  was  that  of  a  man  nailed  to  a 
cross,  which  surprised  Tom  much.  He  fancied  that 
he  had  seen  something  like  it  in  a  shop  window. 
But  why  was  it  there?  ^^  Poor  man,"  thought  Tom; 
"  and  he  looks  so  kind  and  quiet.  But  why  should 
the  lady  have  such  a  sad  picture  as  that  in  her  room  ? 
Perhaps  it  was  some  kinsman  ^  of  hers  who  had  been 
murdered  by  the  savages  in  foreign  parts,  and  she 
kept  it  there  for  a  remembrance."  And  Tom  felt  sad 
and  awed,  and  turned  to  look  at  something  else. 

The  next  thing  he  saw,  and  that,  too,  puzzled  him, 
was  a  washing-stand,  with  ewers  and  basins,  and  soap 
and  brushes  and  towels,  and  a  large  bath  full  of  clean 
water.  "  What  a  heap  of  things,  all  for  washing. 
She  must  be  a  very  dirty  lady,"  thought  Tom,  "  by 
my  master's  rule,  to  want  as  much  scrubbing  as  all 
that.  But  she  must  be  very  cunning  to  put  the  dirt 
out  of  the  way  so  well  afterwards,  for  I  don't  see  a 
speck  about  the  room,  not  even  on  the  very  towels." 

And  then,  looking  toward  the  bed,  he  saw^  that 
dirty  lady,  and  held  his  breath  with  astonishment. 

1  kiiis'-man,  relative. 


178  A    FOURTH    READER. 


Under  the  snow-white  coverlet,  upon  the  snow- 
white  pillow,  lay  the  most  beautiful  little  girl  that 
Tom  had  ever  seen.  Her  cheeks  were  almost  as  white 
as  the  pillow,  and  her  hair  was  like  threads  of  gold 
spread  all  about  over  the  bed. 

She  might  have  been  as  old  as  Tom,  or  may  be  a 
year  or  two  older ;  but  Tom  did  not  think  of  that. 
He  thought  only  of  her  delicate  skin  and  golden  hair, 
and  wondered  whether  she  were  a  real  live  person,  or 
one  of  the  wax  dolls  he  had  seen  in  tlie  shops.  But 
when  he  saw  her  breathe,  he  made  up  his  mind  that 
she  was  alive,  and  stood  staring  at  her  as  if  she  had 
been  an  angel  out  of  heaven. 

"  No ;  she  cannot  be  dirty.  She  never  could  have 
been  dirty,"  thought  Tom  to  himself.  And  then  he 
thought,  "  And  are  all  people  like  that  when  they  are 
washed  ?  "  And  he  looked  at  his  own  wrist  and  tried 
to  rub  the  soot  off,  and  wondered  whether  it  ever 
would  come  off.  "  Certainly  I  should  look  much 
prettier  then,  if  I  grew  at  all  like  her." 

And  looking  round  he  suddenly  saw,  standing  close 
to  him,  a  little,  ugly,  black,  ragged  figure,  w^ith  bleared 
eyes  and  grinning  white  teeth.  He  turned  on  it  angrily. 
What  did  such  a  little  black  ape  want  in  that  sweet 
young  lady' s  room  ?  And  behold,  it  was  himself,  re- 
flected in  a  great  mirror,  the  like  of  which  Tom  had 
never  seen  before ! 

And  Tom,  for  the  first   time   in  his  life,  found  out 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  179 


that  he  was  dirty,  and  burst  into  tears  with  shame 
and  anger,  and  turned  to  sneak  up  the  chimney  again 
and  hide,  and  upset  the  fender/  and  threw  the  fire- 
irons  down  with  a  noise  as  of  ten  thousand  tin  kettles 
tied  to  ten  thousand  mad  dogs'  tails. 

Up  jumped  the  little  w^hite  lady  in  her  bed,  and, 
seeing  Tom,  screamed  as  shrill  as  any  peacock.  In 
rushed  a  stout  old  nurse  from  the  next  room,  and 
seeing  Tom  likewise,  made  up  her  mind  that  he  had 
come  to  rob,^  plunder,  destroy,  and  burn ;  and  dashed 
at  him,  as  he  lay  over  the  fender,  so  fast  that  she 
caught  him  by  the  jacket. 

But  she  did  not  hold  him.  Tom  had  been  in  a  po- 
liceman's hands  many  a  time,  and  out  of  them,  too, 
what  is  more ;  and  he  would  have  been  ashamed  to 
face  his  friends  forever  if  he  had  been  stupid  enough 
to  be  caught  by  an  old  woman.  So  he  doubled  under 
the  good  lady's  arms,  across  the  room,  and  out  of  the 
window  in  a  moment. 

He  did  not  need  to  drop  out,  though  he  would  have 
done  so  bravely  enough;  nor  even  to  let  himself 
down  a  spout,  which  would  have  been  an  old  game 
to  him,  for  once  he  got  up  by  a  spout  to  the 
church  roof,  —  he  said  to  take  jackdaws'  eggs,  but 
the  policeman  said  to  steal  lead,  —  and,  when  he 
was  seen  on  high,  sat  there  till  the  sun  got  too 
hot,  and   came  down   by  another  spout,  leaving  the 

^  fen'der,  a  frame  for  keeping  the  fire  from  falling  on  the  floor. 


180  A    FOURTH    READER. 

policemen  to  go  back  to  the  station  house  and  eat 
their  dinners. 

But  all  under  the  window  spread  a  tree  with  great 
leaves,  and  sweet  white  flowers  almost  as  big  as  his 
head.  It  was  a  magnolia,  I  suppose  ;  but  Tom  knew 
nothing  about  that,  and  cared  less ;  for  down  the  tree 
he  went  like  a  cat,  and  across  the  garden  lawn,  and 
over  the  iron  railings,  and  up  the  park  towards  the 
wood,  leaving  the  old  nurse  to  scream  murder  and  fire 
at  the  window. 

The  under  gardener,  mowing,  vsaw  Tom,  and  threw 
down  his  scythe,  caught  his  leg  in  it,  and  cut  his  shin 
open,  whereby  he  kept  his  bed  for  a  week ;  but  in  his 
hurry  he  never  knew  it,  and  gave  chase  to  poor  Tom. 
The  dairymaid  heard  the  noise,  got  the  churn  between 
her  knees  and  tumbled  over  it,  spilling  all  the  cream ; 
and  yet  she  jumped  up  and  gave  chase  to  Tom. 

A  groom,  cleaning  Sir  John's  hack  ^  at  the  stables, 
let  him  go  loose,  whereby  he  kicked  himself  lame  in 
five  minutes ;  but  he  ran  out  and  gave  chase  to  Tom. 
Grimes  upset  the  soot  sack  in  the  new-graveled  yard, 
and  spoilt  it  all  utterly ;  but  he  ran  out  and  gave 
chase  to  Tom.  The  old  steward  opened  the  park  gate 
in  such  a  hurry  that  he  caught  his  pony's  chain  upon 
the  spikes,  and  for  aught  I  know  it  hangs  there  still ; 
but  he  jumped  off  and  gave  chase  to  Tom. 

The  plowman  left  his  horses  at  the  lieadland,  and 

^  hack,  horse. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  181 

one  jumped  over  the  fence  and  pulled  the  other  into 
the  ditch,  plow  and  all ;  but  he  ran  on  and  gave 
chase  to  Tom.  The  keeper,  who  was  taking  a  stoat  ^ 
out  of  a  trap,  let  the  stoat  go,  and  caught  his  own 
finger ;  but  he  jumped  up  and  ran  after  Tom,  and, 
considering  what  he  said  and  how  he  looked,  I  should 
have  been  sorry  for  Tom  if  he  had  caught  him. 

Sir  John  looked  out  of  his  study  window  (for  he 
was  an  early  old  gentleman)  and  up  at  the  nurse,  and 
a  martin  dropped  mud  in  his  eye,  so  that  he  had  at 
last  to  send  for  the  doctor ;  and  yet  he  ran  out  and 
gave  chase  to  Tom.  The  Irishwoman,  too,  was  walk- 
ing up  to  the  house  to  beg,  —  she  must  have  got  round 
by  some  by-way ;  but  she  threw  away  her  bundle  and 
gave  chase  to  Tom  likewise.  Only  My  Lady  did  not 
give  chase ;  for  when  she  had  put  her  head  out  of  the 
window,  her  night-wig  fell  into  the  garden,  and  she 
had  to  ring  up  her  lady's  maid  and  send  her  down  for 
it  privately,  which  quite  put  her  out  of  the  running, 
so  that  she  came  in  nowhere,  and  is  consequently^ 
not  placed. 

In  a  word,  never  was  there  heard  at  Hall  Place  — 
not  even  when  the  fox  was  killed  in  the  conservatory  ^ 
among  acres  of  broken  glass  and  tons  of  smashed 
flower-pots  —  such  a  noise,  row,  hubbub,  hullabaloo, 
and  total  contempt  of  dignity,  repose,  and   order,  as 

1  stoat,  an  ermine.  2  con'se-quent-ly,  therefore. 

3  con-serv'a-to-ry,  greenhouse. 


182  A    FOURTH    READER. 

that  day  when  Grimes,  the  gardener,  the  groom,  the 
dairymaid,  Sir  Jolm,  the  steward,  the  plowman,  the 
keeper,  and  the  Irishwoman  all  ran  up  the  park, 
shouting,  "  Stop  thief  !  "  in  the  belief  that  Tom  had  at 
least  a  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  jewels  in  his  empty 
pockets ;  and  the  very  magpies  and  jays  followed  Tom 
up,  screaking  and  screaming  as  if  he  were  a  hunted 
fox  beginning  to  droop  his  brush. 

And  all  the  while  poor  Tom  paddled  up  the  park 
with  his  little  bare  feet,  like  a  small  black  gorilla 
fleeing  to  the  forest. 

Alas  for  him !  there  was  no  big  father  gorilla 
therein  to  take  part,  —  to  scratch  out  the  gardener's 
inside  with  one  paw,  toss  the  dairymaid  into  a  tree 
with  another,  and  WTcnch  off  Sir  John's  head  with 
a  third,  while  he  cracked  the  keeper's  skull  with  his 
teeth  as  easily  as  if  it  had  been  a  cocoanut  or  a 
paving  stone. 

However,  Tom  did  not  remember  ever  having  had 
a  father,  so  he  did  not  look  for  one,  and  expected 
to  have  to  take  care  of  himself ;  while,  as  for  running, 
he  could  keep  up  for  a  couple  of  miles  with  any 
stagecoach,  if  there  was  a  chance  of  a  copper,  and 
turn  coach-wheels  on  his  hands  and  feet  ten  times 
following,  which  is  more  than  you  can  do.  .  Where- 
fore his  pursuers  found  it  very  difficult  to  catch 
him ;  and  we  will  hope  that  they  did  not  catch  him 
at  all. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  183 


CHAPTER  V. 

TOM,  of  course,  made  for  the  woods.  He  had 
never  been  m  a  wood  in  his  life  ;  but  he  was 
sharp  enough  to  know  that  he  might  hide  in  a  bush 
or  run  up  a  tree,  and,  altogether,  had  more  chance 
than  in  the  open  field.  If  he  had  not  known  that, 
he  would  have  been  foolisher  than  a  mouse  or  a 
minnow.  f 

But  when  he  got  into  the  wood,  he  found  it  a 
very  different  sort  of  place  from  what  he  had  fancied. 
He  pushed  into  a  thick  cover  of  rhododendrons/  and 
found  himself  at  once  caught  in  a  trap. 

The  boughs  laid  hold  of  his  legs  and  arms,  poked 
him  in  his  face  and  his  stomach,  made  him  shut 
his  eyes  light  (though  that  was  no  great  loss,  for 
he  could  not  see  at  best  a  yard  before  his  nose). 
And  when  he  got  through  the  rhododendrons,  the 
hassock  grass  and  sedges  tumbled  him  over,  and  cut 
his  poor  little  fingers  afterwards  most  spitefully ; 
the  birches  birched  him  as  soundly  as  if  he  had  been 
a  nobleman  at  Eton,^  and  over  the  face,  too  (which 
is  not  fair  switching,  as  all  brave  boys  will  agree) ; 
and  the  lawyers  ^  tripped  him  up  and  tore  his  shins 
as  if  they  had  shark's  teeth  —  which  lawyers  are 
likely  enough  to  have. 

1  rho'-do-den'dron,  a  rose  tree ;  a  shrub  bearing  beautiful  flowers. 

2  E'ton,  a  noted  school  for  boys.        ^  lawyers,  briers  ;  brambles. 


184  A    FOURTH    READER. 

"I  must  get  out  of  this/'  thought  Tom,  "or  I 
shall  stay  here  till  somebody  comes  to  help  me, — 
which  is  just  what  I  don't  want." 

But  how  to  get  out  was  the  difficult  matter.  And 
indeed,  I  don't  think  he  would  ever  have  got  out  at 
all,  but  have  stayed  there  till  the  cock  robins  covered 
him  with  leaves,  if  he  had  not  suddenly  run  his 
head  against  a  wall. 

Now,  running  your  head  against  a  wall  is  not 
pleasant,  especially  if  it  is  a  loose  wall,  with  the 
stones  all  set  on  edge,  and  a  sharp-cornered  one  hits 
you  between  the  eyes  and  makes  you  see  all  manner 
of  beautiful  stars. 

The  stars  are  very  beautiful,  certainly ;  but, 
unfortunately,  they  go  in  the  twenty-thousandth 
part  of  a  split  second,  and  the  pain  which  comes 
after  them  does  not. 

And  so  Tom  hurt  his  head  ;  but  he  was  a  brave 
boy,  and  did  not  mind  that  a  penny.  He  guessed 
that  over  the  wall  the  cover  ^  would  end ;  and  up 
it  he  went,  and  over  like  a  squirrel. 

And  there  he  was,  out  on  the  great  grouse  moors,^ 
which  the  country  folk  called  Harthover  Fell,  — 
heather,^  and  bog,  and  rock,  —  stretching  away  and 
up,  up  to  the  very  sky. 

^  cover,  thicket. 

2  moor,  a  tract  of  poor  land  covered  with  heather. 

8  heath'er,  a  plant  common  in  Great  Britain. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  185 

Now  Tom  was  a  cunning  little  fellow,  —  as  canning 
as  an  old  Exmoor  stag.  Why  not  ?  Though  he 
was  but  ten  years  old,  he  had  lived  longer  than 
most  stags,  and  had  more  wits  to  start  with  into 
the   bargain. 

He  knew  as  well  as  a  stag  that  if  he  backed, 
he  might  throw  the  hounds  out.  So  the  first 
thing  he  did,  when  he  was  over  the  wall,  was  to 
make  the  neatest  double  sharp  to  his  right,  and 
run  along  under  the  wall  for  nearly  half  a  mile. 

Whereby  Sir  John,  and  the  keeper,  and  the 
steward,  and  the  gardener,  and  the  plowman,  and 
the  dairymaid,  and  all  the  hue-and-cry  together 
went  on  ahead  half  a  mile  in  the  very  opposite 
direction,  and  inside  the  wall,  leaving  him  a  mile 
off  on  the  outside,  while  Tom  heard  their  shouts 
die  away  in  the  wood,  and  chuckled  to  himself 
merrily. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  dip  in  the  land,  and  went 
to  the  bottom  of  it,  and  then  he  turned  bravely 
away  from  the  wall  and  up  the  moor  ;  for  he  knew 
that  he  had  put  a  hill  between  him  and  his  enemies, 
and  could  go  on  without  their  seeing  him. 

But  the  Irishwoman,  alone  of  them  all,  had  seen 
which,  way  Tom  w^ent.  She  had  kept  ahead  of 
every  one  the  whole  time ;  and  yet  she  neither 
walked  nor  ran.  She  went  along  quite  smoothly 
and    gracefully,    while   her    feet    twinkled  past    each 


186  *  A    FOURTH    READER. 


other  so  fast  that  you  could  not  see  which  was 
foremost ;  till  every  one  asked  the  other  who  the 
strange  woman  was.  And  all  agreed,  for  want  of 
anything  better  to  say,  that  she  must  be  in  league^ 
with   Tom. 

But  when  she  came  to  the  plantation,  they  lost 
sight  of  her ;  and  they  could  do  no  less,  for  she 
went  quietly  over  the  wall  after  Tom,  and  follow^ed 
him  wherever  he  went.  Sir  John  and  the  rest 
saw  no  more  of  her ;  and  out  of  sight  was  out 
of  mind. 

And  now  Tom  w^as  right  away  into  the  heather, 
over  just  such  a  moor  as  those  in  which  you  have 
been  bred,  except  that  there  were  rocks  and  stones 
lying  about  everywhere,  and  that,  instead  of  the 
moor  growing  flat  as  he  went  upwards,  it  grew 
more  and  more  broken  and  hilly,  but  not  so  rough 
but  that  little  Tom  could  jog  along  well  enough, 
and  find  time,  too,  to  stare  about  at  the  strange 
place,  which  was  like  a  new  w^orld  to  him. 

He  saw  great  spiders  there,  with  crowns  and 
crosses  marked  on  their  backs,  who  sat  in  the  middle 
of  their  webs,  and  Avhen  they  saw  Tom  coming, 
shook  them  so  fast  that  they  became  invisible." 
'  Then  he  saw  lizards,  brown  and  gray  and  green, 
and    thought    they    were    snakes,    and    would    sting 

^  league  (leeg),  agreement  to  act  together. 
'-^  in-vis'l-ble,  that  cannot  be  seen. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  187 


him;  but  they  were  as  much  frightened  as  he,  and 
shot  away  into  the  heath.  And  then,  under  a  rock, 
he  saw  a  pretty  sight,  —  a  great,  brown,  sharp-nosed 
creature,  with  a  white  tag  to  her  brush,  and  round 
her  four  or  five  smutty  little  cubs,  the  funniest  fel- 
lows Tom  ever  saw. 

She  lay  on  her  back  rolling  about  and  stretch- 
ing out  her  legs  and  head  and  tail  in  the  bright 
sunshine ;  and  the  cubs  jumped  over  her,  and 
ran  round  her,  and  nibbled  her  paws,  and  lugged 
her  about  by  the  tail,  and  she  seemed  to  enjoy  it 
mightily. 

But  one  selfish  little  fellow  stole  away  from  the 
rest  to  a  dead  crow  close  by,  and  dragged  it  off  to 
hide  it,  though  it  was  nearly  as  big  as  he  was. 
Whereat  all  his  little  brothers  set  off  after  him  in 
full  cry,  and  saw  Tom ;  and  then  all  ran  back ;  and 
up  jumped  Mrs.  Vixen,  and  caught  one  up  in  her 
mouth,  and  the  rest  toddled  after  her,  and  into  a 
dark  crack  in  the  rocks;  and  there  was  an  end  of 
the  show. 

And  next  he  had  a  fright;  for,  as  he  scrambled 
up  a  sandy  brow,  —  whirr-poof -cock-cock-kick,  — 
something  went  off  in  his  face  with  a  most  horrid 
noise.  He  thought  the  ground  had  blown  up,  and 
the  end  of  the  world  come. 

And  when  he  opened  his  eyes  (for  he  shut  them 
very   tight),    it   was    only    an    old    cock-grouse,    who 


188  A    FOURTH    READER. 

had  been  washing  himself  in  sand,  like  an  Arab, 
for  want  of  water,  and  who,  when  Tom  had  all 
but  trodden  on  him,  jumped  up  with  a  noise  like 
the  express  train,  leaving  his  wife  and  children  to 
shift  for  themselves,  like  an  old  coward,  and  went 
off,  screaming,  "  Cur-ru-u-uck,  cur-ru-u-uck,  —  murder, 
thieves,  fire,  —  cur-u-uck-cock-kick,  —  the  end  of  the 
world  is  come,  —  kick-kick-cock-kick!" 

He  was  always  fancying  that  the  end  of  the 
world  was  come  when  anything  happened  which 
was  farther  off  than  the  end  of  his  own  nose.  But 
the  end  of  the  world  was  not  come,  any  more  than 
the  twelfth  of  August  was,  though  the  old  grouse 
cock  was  quite  certain  of  it. 

So  the  old  grouse  came  back  to  his  wife  and 
family  an  hour  afterwards,  and  said  solemnly, 
"  Cock-cock-kick ;  my  dears,  the  end  of  the  world 
is  not  quite  come,  but  I  assure  you  it  is  coming 
the  day  after  to-morrow.'' 

But  his  wife  had  heard  that  so  often  that  she 
knew  all  about  it,  and  a  little  more.  And,  beside, 
she  was  the  mother  of  a  family,  and  had  seven 
little  poults^  to  wash  and  feed  every  day,  and  that 
made  her  very  practical  and  a  little  sharp-tempered ; 
so  all  she  answered  was,  ^^  Kick-kick-kick — kick, 
kick,  kick  —  go  and  catch  spiders,  go  and  catch 
spiders  —  kick." 

^  poults,  chicks. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  189 


CHAPTER   VI. 

SO  Tom  went  on  and  on,  he  hardly  knew  why; 
but  he  Hked  the  great,  wide,  strange  place,  and 
the  cool,  fresh,  bracmg  air.  But  he  went  more  and 
more  slowly  as  he  got  higher  up  the  hill ;  for  now 
the  ground  grew  very  bad  indeed. 

Instead  of  soft  turf  and  springy  heather,  he  met 
great  patches  of  flat  limestone  rock,  just  like  ill- 
made  pavements,  with  deep  cracks  between  the  stones 
and  ledges  filled  with  ferns;  so  he  had  to  hop  from 
stone  to  stone,  and  now  and  then  he  slipped  in 
between  and  hurt  his  little  bare  toes,  though  they 
were  tolerably  ^  tough  ones ;  but  still  he  would  go 
on  and  up,  he  could  not  tell  why. 

What  would  Tom  have  said  if  he  had  seen  walking 
over  the  moor  behind  him  the  very  same  Irishwoman 
who  had  taken  his  part  upon  the  road  ?  But  whether 
it  was  that  he  looked  too  little  behind  him,  or  whether 
it  was  that  she  kept  out  of  sight  behind  the  rocks  and 
knolls,^  he  never  saw  her  though  she  saw  him. 

And  now  he  began  to  get  a  little  hungry,  and 
very  thirsty;  for  he  had  run  a  long  way,  and  the 
sun  had  risen  high  in  heaven,  and  the  rock  was 
as  hot  as  an  oven,  and  the  air  danced  reels  over 
it  as  it  does  over  a  limekiln,^  till  everything  round 
seemed  quivering  and  melting  in  the  glare. 

*  tol'-er-a-bly,  quite.  2  knoUs,  small  hills. 

2  lime'kiln  (-kil),  a  sort  of  oven  where  limestone  is  burned. 


190  A    FOURTH    READER. 

But  he  could  see  nothing  to  eat  anywhere,  and 
still  less  to  drink. 

The  heath  was  full  of  bilberries  and  whinberries ; 
but  they  were  only  in  flower,  for  it  was  June.  And 
as  for  water,  who  can  find  that  on  top  of  a  lime- 
stone rock  ?  Now  and  then  he  passed  by  a  deep, 
dark  swallow-hole,  going  down  into  the  earth  as  if 
it  was  the  chimney  of  some  dwarfs  house  under 
ground;  and  more  than  once,  as  he  passed,  he  could 
hear  water  falling,  trickling,  tinkling,  many,  many 
feet  below.  How  he  longed  to  get  down  to  it  and 
cool  his  poor  baked  lips  !  But,  brave  little  chimney 
sweep  as  he  was,  he  dared  not  climb  down  such 
chimneys  as  those. 

So  he  went  on  and  on,  till  his  head  spun  round 
with  the  heat,  and  he  thought  he  heard  church 
bells  ringing  a  long  way  off. 

"  Ah ! "  h6  thought,  ''  where  there  is  a  church 
there  will  be  houses  and  people ;  and  perhaps  some 
one  will  give  me  a  bit  and  a  sup."  So  he  set  off 
again  to  look  for  the  church;  for  he  was  sure  that 
he  heard  the  bells  quite  plain. 

And  in  a  minute  more,  when  he  looked  round,  he 
stopped  again,  and  said,  ^^  Why,  what  a  big  place 
the  world  is  !  " 

And  so  it  was,  for,  from  the  top  of  the  mountain 
he  could  see,  —  what  could  he  not  see  ? 

Behind   him,   far   below,  was   Harthover,  and   the 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  191 


dark  woods,  and  the  shining  salmon  river ;  and  on 
his  left,  far  below,  was  the  town,  and  the  smoking 
chimneys  of  the  collieries ;  ^  and  far,  far  away,  the 
river  widened  to  the  shining  sea,  and  little  white 
specks,  which  were  ships,  lay  on  its  bosom.  Before 
him  lay,  spread  out  like  a  map,  great  plains,  and 
farms,  and  villages,  amid  dark  knots  of  trees.  They 
all  seemed  at  his  very  feet;  but  he  had  sense  to 
see  that  they  were  long  miles  away. 

And  to  his  right  rose  moor  after  moor,  hill  after 
hill,  till  they  faded  away,  blue  into  blue  sky.  But 
between  him  and  those  moors,  and  really  at  his  very 
feet,  lay  something  to  which,  as  soon  as  Tom  saw  it, 
he  determined  to  go,  for  that  was  the  place  for  him. 

A  deep,  deep  green  and  rocky  valley,  very  nar- 
row and  filled  with  wood ;  but  through  the  wood, 
hundreds  of  feet  below  him,  he  could  see  a  clear 
stream  glance. 

Oh,  if  he  could  but  get  down  to  that  stream ! 
Then,  by  the  stream,  he  saw '  the  roof  of  a  little 
cottage,  and  a  little  garden  set  out  in  squares  and 
beds.  And  there  was  a  tiny  little  red  thing  moving 
in  the  garden  no  bigger  than  a  fly. 

As  Tom  looked  down,  he  saw  that  it  was  a 
w^oman  in  a  red  petticoat.  Ah  !  perhaps  she  would 
give  him  something  to  eat.  iVnd  there  were  the 
church  bells  ringing  again.     Surely  there  must  be  a 

^  col'lier-ies,  coal  mines. 


192  A    FOURTH    READER. 

village  down  there  !  Well,  nobody  would  know  him, 
or  what  had  happened  at  the  Place. 

The  news  covild  not  have  got  there  yet,  even  if  Sir 
John  had  set  all  the  policemen  in  the  country  after 
him;  and  he  could  get  down  there  in  five  minutes. 

Tom  was  quite  right  about  the  hue-and-cry  not 
having  got  thither ;  for  he  had  come,  without  know- 
ing it,  the  best  part  of  ten  miles  from  Harthover  ; 
but  he  was  wrong  about  getting  down  in  five  minutes, 
for  the  cottage  was  more  than  a  mile  off,  and  a  good 
thousand  feet  below. 

However,  down  he  went,  like  a  brave  little  man  as 
he  was,  though  he  was  very  footsore  and  tired,  and 
hungry  and  thirsty ;  while  the  church  bells  rang  so 
loud,  he  began  to  think  that  they  must  be  inside  his 
own  head,  and  the  river  chimed  and  tinkled  far  be- 
low, and  this  was  the  song  which  it  sang  :  — 

Clear  and  cool,  clear  and  cool, 
By  laughing  shallow  and  dreaming  pool ; 

Cool  and  clear,  cool  and  clear, 
By  singing  shingle,    and  foaming  wear ;  ^ 
Under  the  crag  where  the  ouzel  ^  sings, 
And  the  ivied  wall  where  the  church  bell  rings, 

Undefiled,*  for  the  undefiled  -, 
Play  by  me,  bathe  in  me,  mother  and  child  ! 

^  shin'gle,  stones  worn  by  water  ;  pebbles. 
2  wear  (wer)dam. 

8  ou'zel  (oozl),  a  bird  of  the  thrush  family. 
*  un-de-filed',  not  defiled  or  soiled ;  clean. 


THE    WATER    BABIES. 


193 


13— 4  R 


WATER    BABIES. 


194  A   FOURTH    READER. 


Dank  ^  and  foul,  dank  and  foul, 
By  the  smoky  town  in  its  murky  ^  cowl ;  ^ 

Foul  and  dank,  foul  and  dank. 
By  wharf  and  sewer  and  slimy  bank ; 
Darker  and  darker  the  further  I  go. 
Baser  and  baser  the  richer  I  gro\l ; 

Who  dare  sport  with  the  sin-defiled  ? 
Shrink  from  me,  turn  from  me,  mother  and  child ! 

Strong  and  free,  strong  and  free, 
Tlie  floodgates  are  open,  away  to  the  sea ; 

Free  and  strong,  free  and  strong, 
Cleansing  my  streams  as  I  hurry  along 
To  the  golden  sands,  and  the  leaping  bar, 
And  the  taintless  *  tide  that  awaits  me  afar. 
As  I  lose  myself  in  the  infinite  ^  main,  ^ 
Like  a  soul  that  has  sinned  and  is  pardoned  again. 

Undefiled,  for  the  undefiled. 
Play  by  me,  bathe  in  me,  mother  and  child. 

So  Tom  went  down,  and  all  the  while  he  never  saw 
the  Irishwoman  going  down  behind  him. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A   MILE  off,  and  a  thousand  feet  down.     So  Tom 
found   it ;    though  it    seemed    as    if    he    could 
have  chucked  a  pebble  on  to  the  back  of  the  woman 

^  dank,  damp.  *  taint'less,  pure. 

2  murk'y,  gloomy.  ^  in'fi-nite,  endless. 

5  cowl,  a  kind  of  hood.  ^  main,  the  ocean. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  195 


in  the  red  petticoat  who  was  weeding  in  the  garden, 
or  even  across  the  dale  to  the  rocks  beyond. 

For  the  bottom  of  the  valley  was  just  one  field 
broad,  and  on  the  other  side  ran  the  stream ;  and 
above  it,  gray  crag,  gray  down,  gray  stair,  gray  moor, 
walled  up  to  heaven. 

A  quiet,  silent,  rich,  happy  place;  a  narrow  crack 
cut  deep  into  the  earth ;  so  deep,  and  so  out  of  the 
way,  that  the  bad  bogies^  can  hardly  find  it  out. 

And  first  Tom  went  down  three  hundred  feet  of 
steep  heather,  mixed  up  with  loose  brown  gritstone  as 
rough  as  a  file,  which  was  not  pleasant  to  his  poor 
little  heels  as  he  came  bump,  stump,  down  the  steep. 
And  still  he  thought  he  could  throw  a  stone  into  the 
garden. 

Then  he  went  down  three  hundred  feet  of  lime- 
stone terraces,^  one  below  the  other,  as  straight  as  if 
a  carpenter  had  ruled  them  with  his  ruler  and 
then  cut  them  out  with  his  chisel.  There  was  no 
heath  there,  but  — 

First,  a  little  grass  slope,  covered  with  the  prettiest 
flowers,  rockrose  and  saxifrage,^  and  thyme*  and 
basil,^  and  all  sorts  of  sweet  herbs.  Then  bump  down 
a  two-foot  step  of  limestone ;  then  another  bit  of  grass 

1  bo'-gies,  bad  spirits ;  hobgoblins. 

2  ter'-ra-ces,  banks  or  slopes  raised  one  above  the  other. 

3  sax'i-frage,  a  plant  that  grows  in  the  crevices  of  rocks. 
*  thyme  (time),  a  fragrant  plant. 

^  bas'il,  a  species  of  mountain  mint. 


196  A    FOURTH    READER. 

and  flowers ;  then  bump  down  a  one-foot  step ;  then 
another  bit  of  grass  and  flowers,  for  flfty  yards,  as 
steep  as  the  house-roof. 

Then  another  step  of  stone,  ten  feet  high ;  and 
there  he  had  to  stop  himself,  and  crawl  along  the 
edge  to  find  a  crack ;  for  if  he  had  rolled  over,  he 
would  have  rolled  right  into  the  old  woman's  garden, 
and  frightened  her  out  of  her  wits. 

Then,  when  he  had  found  a  dark,  narrow  crack 
full  of  green-stalked  fern  such  as  hangs  in  the  basket 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  had  crawled  down  through 
it  with  knees  and  elbows,  as  he  would  down  a  chim- 
ney, there  was  another  grass  slope,  and  another  step, 
and  so  on,  till  —  oh,  dear  me  !  I  wish  it  was  all  over  I 
and  so  did  he.  And  yet  he  thought  he  could  throw 
a  stone  into  the  old  woman's  garden. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  bank  of  beautiful  shrubs,  — 
whitebeam  with  its  great  silver-backed  leaves,  and 
mountain  ash,  and  oak;  and  below  them  cliff  and 
crag,  cliff  and  crag,  with  great  beds  of  crowned  ferns 
and  wood  sage  ;  while  through  the  shrubs  he  could 
see  the  stream  sparkling,  and  hear  it  murmur  on  the 
white  pebbles.  He  did  not  know  that  it  was  three 
hundred  feet   below. 

You  w^ould  have  been  giddy,  perhaps,  at  looking 
down ;  but  Tom  was  not.  He  was  a  brave  little 
chimney  sweep;  and  when  he  found  himself  on  the 
top  of  a  high  cliff,  instead  of  sitting  down  and  crying, 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  197 

he  said,  ''  Ah,  this  will  just  suit  me  !  "  though  he 
was  very  tired ;  and  down  he  went,  by  stock  and 
stone,  sedge  and  ledge,  bush  and  rush,  as  if  he  had 
been  born  a  jolly  little  black  ape,  with  four  hands 
instead  of  two. 

And  all  tlie  while  he  never  saw  the  Irishwoman 
coming  down  behind  him.  But  he  was  getting  terri- 
bly tired  now.  The  burning  sun  on  the  fells  had 
sucked  him  up ;  but  the  damp  heat  of  the  woody  crag 
sucked  him  up  still  more. 

At  last  he  got  to  the  bottom.  But,  behold,  it  was 
not  the  bottom  !  —  as  people  usually  find  when  they 
are  coming  down  a  mountain.  For  at  the  foot  of  the 
crag  were  heaps  and  heaps  of  fallen  limestone,  of 
every  size,  from  that  of  your  head  to  that  of  a  stage- 
wagon,  with  holes  between  them  full  of  sweet  heath 
fern ;  and  before  Tom  got  through  them  he  was  out 
in  the  bright  sunshine  again ;  and  then  he  felt,  once 
for  all  and  suddenly,  as  people  generally  do,  that  he 
was  b-e-a-t,  beat. 

You  must  expect  to  be  beat  a  few  times  in  your 
life,  little  man,  if  you  live  such  a  life  as  a  man 
Ought  to  live,  let  you  be  as  strong  and  healthy  as 
you  may ;  and  when  you  are,  you  will  find  it  a 
very  ugly  feeling.  T  hope  that  that  day  you  may 
have  a  stout,  stanch  friend  by  you  who  is  not  beat ; 
for,  if  you  have  not,  you  had  best  lie  where  yo.u 
are  and  wait  for  better  times,  as  poor  Tom  did. 


198  A    FOURTH    READER. 

He  could  not  get  on.  The  sun  was  burning,  and 
yet  he  felt  chill  all  over.  He  was  quite  empty,  and 
yet  he  felt  quite  sick.  There  were  but  two  hundred 
yards  of  smooth  pasture  between  him  and  the  cot- 
tage, and  yet  he  could  not  walk  down  it.  He  could 
hear  the  stream  murmuring  only  one  field  beyond 
it,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  were  a  hundred 
miles  off. 

He  lay  down  on  the  grass,  till  the  beetles  ran 
over  him  and  the  flies  settled  on  his  nose.  I  don't 
know  when  he  would  have  got  up  again  if  the 
gnats  and  the  midges  had  not  taken  compassion^ 
on  him. 

But  the  gnats  blew  their  trumpets  so  loud  in  his 
ear,  and  the  midges  nibbled  so  at  his  hands  and 
face  wherever  they  could  find  a  place  free  from 
soot,  that  at  last  he  woke  up,  and  stumbled  away, 
down  over  a  low  wall,  and  into  a  narrow  road,  and 
up  to  the  cottage  door. 

And  a  neat,  pretty  cottage  it  was,  with  clipped  yew 
hedges  all  round .  the  garden,  and  yews  inside  too. 
And  out  of  the  open  door  came  a  noise  like  that  of 
the  frogs  when  they  know  that  it  is  going  to  be 
scorching  hot  to-morrow,  —  and  how  they  know  that 
I  don't  know,  and  you  don't  know,  and.  nobody 
knows. 

He  came  slowly  up  to  the  open   door,  which  was 

1  com-paa'-sion,  pity. 


THE    yVATER    BABIES.  199 


all  hung  round  with  clematis^  and  roses;  and  then 
peeped  in,  half  afraid. 

And  there  sat  by  the  empty  fireplace,  which  was 
filled  with  a  pot  of  sweet  herbs,  the  nicest  old 
woman  that  ever  was  seen,  in  her  red  petticoat, 
and  short  dimity^  bedgown,  and  clean  white  cap, 
with  a  black  silk  handkerchief  over  it  tied  under 
her  chin.  At  her  feet  sat  the  grandfather  of  all 
the  cats;  and  opposite  her  sat,  on  two  benches, 
twelve  or  fourteen  neat,  rosy,  chubby  little  children, 
learning  their  Chris-cross-row;  and  gabble  enough 
they  made  about  it. 

Such  a  pleasant  cottage  it  was,  with  a  shiny  clean 
stone  floor,  and  curious  old  prints  on  the  walls,  and 
an  old  black  oak  sideboard  full  of  bright  pewter 
and  brass  dishes,  and  a  cuckoo  clock  in  the  corner 
which  began  shouting  as  soon  as  Tom  appeared ; 
not  that  it  was  frightened  at  Tom,  but  that  it  was 
just  eleven  o'clock. 

All  the  children  started  at  Tom's  dirty  black 
figure.  The  girls  began  to  cry,  and  the  boys  began 
to  laugh,  and  ^^11  pointed  at  him  rudely  enough; 
but  Tom  was  too  tired  to  care  for  that. 

^^What  art  thou,  and  what  dost  want?"  cried 
the  old  dame.  ^^A  chimney  sweep!  Away  with 
thee!     I'll  have  no  sweeps  here." 

"  Water,"  said  poor  little  Tom,  quite  faint. 

^  clem'-a-tis,  a  climbing  plant.  ^  dim'-i-ty,  a  kind  of  cloth. 


200  A    FOURTH    READER. 

''  Water  ?  There  's  plenty  i'  the  beck/'  ^  she  said 
quite  sharply. 

''  But  I  can't  get  there ;  I  'm  most  clemmed  ^  with 
hunger  and  -drought."^  And  Tom  sank  down  upon 
the  doorstep  and  laid  his  head  against  the  post. 

And  the  old  dame  looked  at  him  through  her 
spectacles  one  minute,  and  two,  and  three;  and  then 
she  said,  "  He 's  sick ;  and  a  bairn 's  a  bairn/  sweep 
or  none." 

'^  Water,"  said  Tom. 

"  God  forgive  me  !  "  and  she  put  by  her  spectacles, 
and  rose,  and  came  to  Tom.  "  Water 's  bad  for 
thee ;  I  '11  give  thee  milk."  And  she  toddled  off 
into  the  next  room,  and  brought  a  cup  of  milk  and 
a  bit  of  bread. 

Tom  drank  the  milk  off  at  one  draught,  and 
then  looked  up,  revived. 

"  Where  didst  come  from  ?  "  said  the  dame. 

^^Over  fell,  there/'  said  Tom,  and  pointed  up  into 
the  sky. 

^' Over  Harthover?  and  down  Lewthwaite  Crag? 
Art  sure  thou  art  not  lying?" 

"  Why  should  I  ? "  said  Tom,  and  leant  his  head 
against  the  post. 

"  And  how  got  ye  up  there  ?  " 

"I  came  over  from  the  Place;"  and  Tom  was  so 
tired  and  desperate  he  had  no  heart  or  time  to  think 

1  beck,  brook.     ^  Qiemmed,  starved.     ^  drought,  thirst.     •*  bairn,  child. 


THE  WATER  BABIES.  201 

of  a  story,  so  he  told  all  the  truth  in  a  few  words. 

"  And  thou  hast  not  been  stealing,  then  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Bless  thy  little  heart !  I'll  warrant  not.  Why, 
God 's  guided  the  bairn  because  he  was  innocent. 
Away  from  the  Place,  and  over  Harthover  Fell,^  and 
down  Lewthwaite  Crag  !  Who  ever  heard  the  like, 
if  God  had  n't  led  him  ?  Why  dost  not  eat  thy 
bread  ?  " 

"  I  can't." 

"  It 's  good  enough,  for  I  made  it  myself.'* 

"  I  can't,"  said  Tom,  and  he  laid  his  head  on  his 
knees  and  then  asked,  "  Is  it  Sunday  ? " 

"  No,  then ;  why  should  it  be  ?  " 

"  Because  I  hear  the  church  bells  ringing  so." 

"  Bless  thy  pretty  heart !  the  bairn  's  sick.  Come 
wi'  me,  and  I  '11  hap^  thee  up  somewhere.  If  thou 
wert  a  bit  cleaner  I  'd  put  thee  in  my  own  bed,  for 
the  Lord's  sake.     But  come  along  here." 

But  when  Tom  tried  to  get  up  he  was  so  tired 
and  giddy  that  she  had  to  help  him  and  lead  him. 

She  put  him  in  an  outhouse  upon  soft  sweet 
hay  and  an  old  rug,  and  bade  him  sleep  off  his  walk, 
and  she  would  come  to  him  w^hen  school  was  over, 
in  an  hour's  time. 

And  so  she  went  in  again,  expecting  Tom  to  fall 
fast  asleep  at  once. 

^  fell,  stony  hill.  8  hap,  put;  take  care  of. 


202  A   FOURTH    READER. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

BUT  Tom  did  not  fall  asleep. 
Instead  of  it  he  turned  and  tossed  and  kicked 
about  in  the  strangest  way,  and  felt  so  hot  all  over 
that  he  longed  to  get  into  the  river  to  cool  him- 
self; and  then  he  fell  half  asleep,  and  dreamt  that 
he  heard  the  little  white  lady  crying  to  him,  *^^0h, 
you're  so  dirty;  go  and  be  washed;"  and  then 
that  he  heard  the  Irishwoman  saying,  "  Those  that 
wish  to  be  clean,  clean  they  will  be." 

And  then  he  heard  the  church  bells  ring  so  loud, 
close  to  him,  too,  that  he  was  sure  it  must  be  Sun- 
day, in  spite  of  what  the  old  dame  had  said;  and 
he  would  go  to  church  and  see  what  a  church  was 
like  inside,  for  he  had  never  been  in  one,  poor  little 
fellow,  in  all  his  life.  But  the  people  would  never 
let  him  come  in  all  over  soot  and  dirt  like  that. 

He  must  go  to  the  river  and  wash  first.  And 
he  said  out  loud  again  and  again,  though  being 
half  asleep  he  did  not  know  it,  "I  must  be  clean, 
I  must  be  clean." 

And  all  of  a  sudden  he  found  himself,  not  in  the 
outhouse  on  the  hay,  but  in  the  middle  of  a  meadow 
over  tlie  road,  with  the  stream  just  before  him,  say- 
ing continually,  ''  I  must  be  clean,  I  must  be  clean." 
He  had  got  there  on  his  own  legs,  between  sleep 
and  awake,   as  children  will   often   get   out   of   bed 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  203 

and  go  about  the  room  when  they  are  not  quite 
well. 

But  he  was  not  a  bit  surprised,  and  went  on  to 
the  bank  of  the  brook  and  lay  down  on  the  grass, 
and  looked  into  the  clear  limestone  w^ater,  with 
every  pebble  at  the  bottom  bright  and  clean,  while 
the  little  silver  trout  dashed  about  in  fright  at  the 
sight  of  his  black  face;  and  he  dipped  his  hand  in 
and  found  it  so  cool,  cool,  cool ;  and  he  said,  "  I  will 
be  a  fish ;  I  will  swim  in  the  water ;  I  must  be  clean, 
I  must  be  clean." 

So  he  pulled  off  all  his  clothes  in  such  haste  that 
he  tore  some  of  them,  which  was  easy  enough  with 
such  ragged  old  things ;  and  he  put  his  poor  hot, 
sore  feet  into  the  water,  and  then  his  legs;  and  the 
further  he  went  in,  the  more  the  church  bells  rang 
in  his  head. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Tom,  "  I  must  be  quick  and  wash 
myself;  the  bells  are  ringing  quite  loud  now,  and 
they  will  stop  soon,  and  then  the  door  will  be  shut, 
and  I  shall  never  be  able  to  get  in  at  all." 

And  all  the  while  he  never  saw  the  Irishwoman, 
—  not  behind  him  this  time,  but  before,  —  for  just 
before  he  came  to  the  river  side,  she  had  stepped 
down  into  the  cool  water,  and  her  shawl  and  her 
petticoat  floated  off  her,  and  the*  green  water  weeds 
floated  round  her  sides,  and  the  white  water  lilies 
floated  round  her  head,  and  the  fairies  of  the  stream 


204  A    FOURTH    READER. 

came  up  from  tlie  bottom  and  bore  her  away  and 
down  upon  their  arms ;  for  she  was  the  Queen  of 
them  all,  and  perhaps  of  more  besides. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  they  asked  her. 

"  I  have  been  smoothing  sick  folk's  pillows,  and 
whispering  sweet  dreams  into  their  ears ;  opening 
cottage  casements/  to  let  out  the  stifling^  air;  coaxing 
little  children  away  from  gutters  and  foul  pools, 
where  fever  breeds ;  doing  all  I  can  to  help  those 
who  will  not  help  themselves ;  and  little  enough 
that  is,  and  weary  work  for  me.  But  I  have  brought 
you  a  new  little  brother,  and  watched  him  safe  all 
the  way  here." 

Then  all  the  fairies  laughed  for  joy  at  the  thought 
that  they  had  a  little  brother  coming. 

"  But  mind,  maidens,  he  must  not  see  you,  or  know 
that  you  are  here.  He  is  but  a  savage^  now,  and  like 
the  beasts  which  perish ;  and  from  the  beasts  which 
perish  he  must  learn.  So  you  must  not  play  with 
him,  or  speak  to  him,  or  let  him  see  you  ;  but  only 
keep  him  from  being  harmed." 

Then  the  fairies  were  sad,  because  they  could  not 
play  with  their  new  brother ;  but  they  always  did 
what  they  were  told. 

And  their  Queen  floated  away  down  the  river ;  and 
whither  she  went,  thither  she  came.      But  all    this 

1  case'ments,  windows.  "  sti'fling,  choking  ;  foul. 

3  sav'age,  a  wild,  ignorant  person. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  205 


Tom,  of  course,  never  saw  or  heard  ;  and  perhaps 
if  he  had,  it  would  have  made  little  difference  in 
the  story;  for  he  was  so  hot  and  thirsty,  and  longed 
so  to  be  clean  for  once,  that  he  tumbled  himself  as 
quick  as  he  could  into  the  clear,  cool  stream. 

And  he  had  not  been  in  it  two  minutes  before  he 
fell  fast  asleep,  —  into  the  quietest,  sunniest,  coziest 
sleep  that  ever  he  had  in  his  life  ;  and  he  dreamt 
about  the  green  meadows  by  which  he  had  walked 
that  morning,  and  the  tall  elm  trees,  and  the  sleeping 
cows ;  and  after  that  he  dreamt  of  nothing  at  all. 

The  reason  of  his  falling  into  such  a  delightful 
sleep  is  very  simple ;  and  yet  hardly  any  one  has 
found  it  out.  It  was  merely  that  the  fairies  took 
him. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  kind  old  dame  came  back  at  twelve,  when 
school  was  over,  to  look  at  Tom;  but  there 
was  no  Tom  there.  She  looked  about  for  his  foot- 
prints ;  but  the  ground  was  so  hard  that  there  was  no 
slot,^  as  they  say  in  dear  old  North  Devon. 

So  she  went  in  again  quite  sulky,  thinking  that 
little  Tom  had  tricked  her  with  a  false  story,  and 
shammed^  ill,  and  then  ran  away  again. 

But  she  altered  her  mind  the  next  day.  For 
when  Sir  John  and  the  rest  of  them  had  run  them- 

1  slot,  track.  2  shammed,  pretended. 


206  A    FOURTH    READER. 

selves  out  of  breath,  and  lost  Tom,  they  went  back 
agam,  looking  very  foolisli. 

And  they  looked  more  foolish  still  when  Sir  John 
heard  more  of  the  story  from  the  nurse ;  and  more 
foolish  still,  again,  when  they  heard  the  whole  story 
from  Miss  EUie,  the  little  lady  in  white.  All  she 
had  seen  was  a  poor  little  black  chimney  sweep 
crying  and  sobbing,  and  going  to  get  up  the  chimney 
again.  Of  course  she  was  very  much  frightened ; 
and  no  wonder.  But  that  was  all.  The  boy  had 
taken  nothing  in  the  room ;  by  the  mark  of  his 
little  sooty  feet,  they  could  see  that  lie  had  never 
been  off  the  hearth  rug  till  the  nurse  caught  hold 
of  him.     It  was  all  a  mistake. 

So  Sir  John  told  Grimes  to  go  home,  and  promised 
him  five  shillings  if  he  would  bring  the  boy  quietly 
up  to  him,  without  beating  him,  that  he  might  be 
sure  of  the  truth.  For  he  took  for  granted  —  and 
Grimes  too  —  that  Tom  had  made  his  way  home. 

But  no  Tom  came  back  to  Mr.  Grimes  that 
evening;  and  he  went  to  the  police  office  to  tell 
them  to  look  out  for  the  boy.  But  no  Tom  was 
heard  of.  As  for  his  having  gone  over  those  great 
fells  to  Vendale,  they  no  more  dreamed  of  that  than 
of  his  having  gone  to  the  moon. 

So  Mr.  Grimes  came  up  to  Harthover  next  day 
with  a  very  sour  face  ;  but  when  he  got  there,  Sir 
John   was    over    the    hills    and    far   away,    and    Mr. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  2X)7 

• 

Grimes  had  to  sit  in  the  outer  servants'  liall  all 
day,  and  drink  strong  ale  to  wash  away  his  sorrows, 
—  and  they  were  washed  away  long  before  Sir  John 
came  back. 

For  good  Sir  John  had  slept  very  badly  that 
night ;  and  he  said  to  his  lady,  "-  My  dear,  the  boy 
must  have  got  over  into  the  grouse  moors,  and  lost 
himself;  and  he  lies  very  heavily  on  my  conscience, 
poor  little  lad.     But  I  know  what  I  will  do." 

So  at  five  the  next  morning  up  he  got  and  into 
his  bath,  and  into  his  shooting-jacket  and  gaiters, 
and  into  the  stable  yard,  like  a  fine  old  English 
gentleman,  with  a  face  as  red  as  a  rose,  and  a  hand 
as  hard  as  a  table,  and  a  back  as  broad  as  a  bullock's, 
and  bade  them  bring  his  shooting  pony,  and  the 
keeper  to  come  on  his  pony,  and  the  huntsman,  and 
the  first  whip,  and  the  second  whip,  and  the  under 
keeper  with  the  bloodhound  in  a  leash,  —  a  great 
dog  as  tall  as  a  calf,  of  the  color  of  a  gravel  walk, 
with  mahogany  ears  and  nose^  and  a  throat  like  a 
church  bell. 

They  took  him  up  to  the  place  where  Tom  had 
gone  into  the  wood ;  and  there  the  hound  lifted  up 
his  mighty  voice  and  told  them  all  he  knaw. 

Then  he  took  them  to  the  place  where  Tom  had 
climbed  the  wall;  and  they  shoved  it  down,  and  all 
got  through. 

And  then  the  wise  dog  took  them  over  the  moor, 


208  A   FOURTH    READER. 

and  over  the  fells,  step  by  step,  very  slowly ;  for 
the  scent  was  a  day  old,  you  know,  and  very  light 
from  the  heat  and  drought.  But  that  was  why 
cunning  old  Sir  John  started  at  five  in  the  morning. 

And  at  last  he  came  to  the  top  of  Lewthwaite 
Crag,  and  there  he  bayed,  and  looked  up  in  their 
faces  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  tell  you  he  has  gone 
down  here." 

They  could  hardly  believe  that  Tom  would  have 
gone  so  far ;  and  when  they  looked  at  that  awful  cliff, 
they  could  never  believe  that  he  would  have  dared  to 
face  it.     But  if  the  dog  said  so,  it  must  be  true. 

"  Heaven  forgive  us  !  "  said  Sir  John.  "  If  we  find 
him  at  all,  we  shall  find  him  lying  at  the  bottom." 
And  he  slapped  his  great  hand  upon  his  great 
thigh,    and    said, — 

''Who  will  go  down  over  Lewthwaite  Crag,  and 
see  if  that  boy  is  alive  ?  Oh  that  I  were  twenty 
years  younger,  and  I  would  go  down  myself ! "  And 
so  he  would  have  done,  as  well  as  any  sweep  in  the 
country.     Then  he  said, — 

"  Twenty  pounds  to  the  man  who  brings  me  that 
boy  alive ! "  And,  as  was  his  way,  what  he  said 
he  meant. 

Now  among  the  lot  was  a  little  groom  boy,  a 
very  little  groom  indeed;  and  he  was  the  same 
who  had  ridden  up  the  court  and  told  Tom  to  come 
to  the  Hall,  and  he  said,  — 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  209 


"  Twenty  pounds  or  none,  I  will  go  down  over 
Lewthwaite  Crag,  if  it 's  only  for  the  poor  boy's 
sake.  For  he  was  as  civil  a  spoken  little  chap  as 
ever  climbed  a  flue." 

So  down  over  Lewthwaite  Crag  he  went.  A  very 
smart  groom  he  was  at  the  top,  and  a  very  shabby 
one  at  the  bottom ;  for  he  tore  his  gaiters,  and  he 
tore  his  breeches,  and  he  tore  his  jacket,  and  he 
burst  his  braces,  and  he  burst  his  boots,  and  he  lost 
his  hat,  and,  what  was  worst  of  all,  he  lost  his  shirt 
pin,  which  he  prized  very  much,  for  it  was  gold; 
but  he  never  saw  anything  of  Tom. 

And  all  the  while  Sir  John  and  the  rest  were 
riding  round,  full  three  miles  to  the  right,  and  back 
again,  to  get  into  Vendale  and  to  the  foot  of  the 
great  crag. 

When  they  came  to  the  old  dame's  school,  all 
the  children  came  out  to  see.  And  the  old  dame 
herself  came  out  too ;  and  when  she  saw  Sir  John 
she  courtesied  very  low,  for  she  was  a  tenant  of 
his. 

"  Well,  dame,  and  how  are  you  ? "  said  Sir  John. 

"  Blessings  on  you  as  broad  as  your  back,  Hartli- 
over,"  says  she, —she  didn't  call  him  Sir  John,  but 
only  Harthover,  for  that  is  the  fashion  in  the  North 
Country,  —  "  and  welcome  into  Vendale  !  but  you  're 
no  hunting  the  fox  this  time  of  year  ?  '^ 

"  I  am  hunting,  and  strange  game  too,"  said  he. 

14 — 4r 


210  A   FOURTH    READER. 

'^  Blessings  on  your  heart !  and  what  makes  you 
look  so  sad   the  morn  ? " 

^'I'm  looking  for  a  lost  child,  a  chimney  sweep 
that  is  run  away." 

"  Oh,  Harthover,  Harthover !  "  says  she,  "  ye  were 
always  a  just  man  and  a  merciful ;  and  ye  '11  no  harm 
the  poor  little  lad  if  I  give  you  tidings  of  him  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  not  I,  dame  !  1  'm  afraid  we  hunted  him 
out  of  the  house  all  on  a  miserable  mistake,  and  the 
hound  has  brought  him  to  the  top  of  Lewthwaite 
Crag,  and  —  " 

Whereat  the  old  dame  broke  out  crying,  without 
letting  him  finish  his  story. 

"  So  he  told  me  the  truth  after  all,  poor  little  dear ! 
Ah,  first  thoughts  are  best,  and  a  body's  heart  '11  guide 
them  right,  if  they  will 'but  hearken  to  it."  And  then 
she  told  Sir  John  all. 

"Bring  the  dog  here,  and  lay  him  on,"  said  Sir 
John,  without  another  word,  and  he  set  his  teeth  very 
hard. 

And  the  dog  opened  at  once,  and  went  away  at 
the  back  of  the  cottage,  over  the  road,  and  over  the 
meadow,  and  through  a  bit  of  alder  copse ;  and 
there,  upon  an  alder  stump,  they  saw  Tom's  clothes 
lying. 

And  then  they  knew  as  much  about  it  all  as  there 
was  any  need  to  know. 

And  Tom? 


THE    WATER    BABIES. 


211 


CHAPTER  X. 


A' 


H,  now  comes  the  most 
wonderful  part  of  this 
wonderful  story.  Tom,  when 
he  woke,  for  of  course  he  woke, 
—  children  always  wake  after 
they  have  slept  exactly  as  long 
as  is  good  for  them,  —  found 
himself  swimming  about  in  the 
stream,  being  about  four  inches 
long,  and  having  round  his 
neck  a  set  of  gills,  just  like 
those  of  a  sucking  eft,^  which 
he  mistook  for  a  lace  frill,  till 
he  pulled  at  them,  found  he 
hurt  himself,  and  made  up  his  mind  that  they  were 
part  of  himself,  and  best  left  alone. 

In  fact,  the  fairies  had  turned  him  into  a  water 
baby. 

A  water  baby  ?  You  never  heard  of  a  water  baby  ? 
Perhaps  not.  That  is  the  very  reason  why  this  story 
was  written.  There  are  a  great  many  things  in  the 
world  which  you  never  heard  of. 

"  But  there  are  no  such  things  as  water  babies !  ** 
How   do   you  know   that?     Have  you  been   there 
to  see?     And  if  you  had  been  there  to  see,  and  had 

1  eft,  a  small  lizard. 


212  A    FOURTH    READER. 

seen  none,  that  would  not  prove  that  there  were 
none.  If  Mr.  Garth  does  not  find  a  fox  in  Eversley 
Wood,  that  does  not  prove  that  there  are  no  such 
things  as  foxes. 

"  But  surely  if  there  were  water  babies,  somebody 
Avould  have  caught  one,  at  least !  " 

Well,  how  do  you  know  that  somebody  has  not  ? 

"  But  they  would  have  put  it  into  a  bottle  of  spirits, 
and  sent  it  to  Professor  Owen,^  or  to  Professor 
Huxley,^  to  see  what  they  would  say  about  it." 

Ah !  my  dear  little  man,  that  does  not  follow  at  all, 
as  you  will  see  before  the  end  of  the  story. 

No  water  babies,  indeed !  There  are  land  babies  ; 
then,  why  not  water  babies  ?  Are  there  not  water 
rats,  water  flies,  w^ater  crickets,  water  crabs,  water 
tortoises,  water  scorpions,  water  tigers  and  water  hogs, 
water  cats  and  water  dogs,  sea  lions  and  sea  bears, 
sea  horses  and  sea  elephants,  sea  mice  and  sea  urchins, 
sea  razors  and  sea  pens,  sea  combs  and  sea  fans  ;  and 
of  plants,  are  there  not  water  grass  and  water 
crowfoot,  water  milfoil,  and  so  on  without  end? 

Do  not  even  you  know  that  a  green  drake,  and  an 
alder  fly,  and  a  dragon  fly  live  under  water  till  they 
change  their  skins,  just  as  Tom  changed  his  ?  And 
if  a  water  animal  can  continually  change  into  a  land 

1  Professor  Owen,  a  distinguished  English  professor  of  anatomy 
and  physiology. 

8  Professor  Huxley,  a  noted  naturalist  and  philosopher. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  213 


animal,  why  should  not  a  land  animal  sometimes 
change  into  a  water  animal  ? 

If  the  changes  of  the  lower  animals  are  so 
wonderful,  and  so  difficult  to  discover,  why  should 
not  there  be  changes  in  the  higher  animals  far  more 
w^onderful,  and  far  more  difficult  to  discover  ?  And 
may  not  man,  the  crown  and  flower  of  all  things, 
undergo  some  change  more  wonderful  than  all  the 
rest  ? 

Till  you  know  a  great  deal  more  about  nature  than 
Professor  Owen  and  Professor  Huxley  put  together, 
don't  tell  me  about  what  cannot  be,  or  fancy  that 
anything  is  too  wonderful  to  be  true  ! 

Am  I  in  earnest  ?  Oh,  dear,  no!  Don't  you  know 
that  this  is  a  fairy  tale,  and  all  fun  and  pretense  ; 
and  that  you  are  not  to  believe  one  word  of  it,  even 
if  it  is  true  ? 

But  at  all  events,  so  it  happened  to  Tom.  And 
therefore  the  keeper,  and  the  groom,  and  Sir  John 
made  a  great  mistake,  and  were  very  unhappy  (Sir 
John  at  least)  without  any  reason,  when  they  found 
a  black  thing  in  the  water,  and  said  it  was  Tom\s 
body,  and  that  he  had  been  drowned.  They  were 
utterly  mistaken.  Tom  was  quite  alive,  and  cleaner 
and  merrier  than  he  ever  had  been.  The  fairies  had 
washed  him,  you  see,  in  the  swift  river,  so  thoroughly 
that  not  only  his  dirt,  but  his  whole  husk  and  shell 
had  been  washed  quite  off  him,  and  the  pretty  little 


214  A    FOURTH    READER. 

real  Tom  was  washed  out  of  the  inside  of  it,  and  swam 
away,  as  a  caddis  ^  does  when  its  case  of  stones  and  silk 
is  bored  through,  and  away  it  goes  on  its  back,  paddling 
to  the  shore,  there  to  split  its  skin  and  fly  away  as  a 
caperer,^  on  four  fawn-colored  wings,  with  long  legs 
and  horns.  They  are  foolish  fellows,  the  caperers,  and 
fly  into  the  candle  at  night,  if  you  leave  the  door  open. 
We  will  hope  Tom  will  be  wiser,  now  he  has  got  safe 
out  of  his  sooty  old  shell. 

But  good  Sir  John  did  not  understand  all  this ; 
and  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  Tom  was  drowned. 
When  they  looked  into  the  empty  pockets  of  his 
shell,  and  found  no  jewels  there,  nor  money,  — 
nothing  but  three  marbles  and  a  brass  button  with 
a  string  to  it,  —  then  Sir  John  did  something  as 
like  crying  as  ever  he  did  in  his  life,  and  blamed 
himself  more  bitterly  than  he  need  have*  done. 

So  he  cried,  and  the  groom  boy  cried,  and  the 
huntsman  cried,  and  the  dame  cried,  and  the  old 
nurse  cried  (for  it  was  somewhat  her  fault),  and 
my  Lady  cried.  The  keeper  did  not  cry,  though  he 
had  been  so  good-natured  to  Tom  the  morning 
before ;  and  Grimes  did  not  cry,  for  Sir  John  gave 
him  ten  pounds. 

And  the  little  girl  would  not  play  with  her  dolls 
for  a  whole  week,  and  never  forgot  poor  little  Tom. 

1  cad'-dis,  a  kind  of  fly  that  is  hatched  in  the  water. 

2  ca'-per-er,  a  kind  of  insect. 


THE    WATER    BABIES.  216 

And  soon  my  Lady  put  a  pretty  little  tombstone 
over  Tom's  shell  in  the  little  churchyard  in  Vendale, 
where  the  old  dalesmen  all  sleep  side  by  side  between 
the  limestone  crags. 

And  the  dame  decked  it  with  garlands  every  Sun- 
day, till  she  grew  so  old  that  she  could  not  stir 
abroad;  then  the  little  children  decked  it  for  her. 
And  always  she  sung  an  old  song,  as  she  sat  spin- 
ning what  shall  be  called  her  wedding  dress.  The 
children  could  not  understand  it,  but  they  liked  it 
none  the  less  for  that ;  for  it  was  very  sweet  and 
very  sad,  and  that  was  enough  for  them.  And 
these  are  the  words  of  it:  — 

"When  all  the  world  is  young,  lad, 

And  all  the  trees  are  green, 
And  every  goose  a  swan,  lad, 

And  every  lass  a  queen ; 
Then  hey  for  boot  and  horse,  lad, 

And  round  the  world  away; 
Young  blood  must  'have  its  course,  lad, 

And  every  dog  his  day. 

"When  all  the  world  is  old,  lad, 

And  all  the  trees  are  brown ; 
And  all  the  sport  is  stale,  lad, 

And  all  the  wheels  run  down-, 
Creep  home  and  take  your  place,  there, 

The  spent  and  maimed  among : 
God  grant  you  find  one  face  there 

You  loved  when  all  was  young  I " 


216  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Those  are  the  words,  but  they  are  only  the  body 
of  it ;  the  soul  of  the  song  was  the  dear  old  woman's 
sweet  face,  and  sweet  voice,  and  the  sweet  old  air 
to  w^hich  she  sang ;  and  that,  alas !  one  cannot  put 
on  paper.  And  at  last  she  grew  so  still  and  lame 
that  the  angels  were  forced  to  carry  her;  and  they 
helped  her  on  with  her  wedding  dress,  and  carried 
her  up  over  Harthover  Fells,  and  a  long  way  beyond 
that  too ;  and  there  was  a  new  schoolmistress  in 
Vendale. 

And  all  the  w^hile  Tom  was  sv/imming  about  in 
the  river,  with  a  pretty  little  lace  collar  of  gills 
about  his  neck,  as  lively  as  a  grig,^  and  as  clean  as 
a  fresh-run  salmon. 

Now,  if  you  don't  like  my  story,  then  go  to  the 
schoolroom  and  learn  your  multiplication  table,  and 
see  if  you  like  that  better.  Some  people,  no  doubt, 
would  do  so.  So  much  the  better  for  us,  if  not  for 
them.     It  takes  all  sorts,  they  say,  to  make  a  world. 


XXVIII.    KING   EDWARD  THE   FIFTH. 

MANY  and  many  a  boy  has  wished  that  he  were 
a  king,  and  many  a  girl  has  thought  that, 
if  she  were  only  a  queen,  she  should  be  perfectly 
^^PPy;    fo^"   boys   and   girls,    and    sometimes   grown 

^  grig,  cricket. 


KING    EDWARD    THE    FIFTH. 


217 


people,  think  that  kings  and  queens  must  be  happy ; 
that  they  have  nothing  to  do  but  what  they  please  ; 
that  other  people  must  obey  them,  and  that  no  one 
can  direct  them,  —  and  what  boy  or  girl  does  not 
like  that? 


THE    -^OWER    OF   LONDON. 


But  kings  and  queens  are  not  always  happy. 
Indeed,  I  doubt  very  much  whether  any  boy  or 
girl  who  reads  this  is  not  happier  in  wishing  to  be 
a  king  or  queen  than  if  the  wish  were  gratified. 
Kings  and  queens  usually  lead  very  hard  lives,  and 
they  cannot  by  any  means  do  all  that  they  would 
like  to  do. 

There  was  once  in  England  a  boy  who  was  a  king. 
His  name  was  Edward,   and  he  was  called  Edward 


218  A    FOURTH    READER. 

the  Fifth  because  England  had  had  four  kings  already 
who  were  called  Edward. 

When  Edward  was  only  thirteen  years  old,  his 
father,  who  was  King  Edward  the  Fourth,  died.  In 
most '  countries  that  have  kings  the  oldest  son  of  a 
king  himself  becomes  king  upon  his  father's  death. 
So  little  Edward,  only  thirteen  years  old,  was  made 
king;  but  he  would  have  been  much  happier  if  he 
had  been  the  son  of  any  poor  good  man  in  England, 
because  many  people  want  to  be  kings,  and  only  one 
in  a  country  can  be ;  so  that,  if  the  king  is  weak, 
it  is  quite  likely  that  some  one  stronger  than  he 
will  try  to  get  his  place. 

Little  King  Edward  had  an  uncle,  called  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester.  This  duke  was  a  very  bad  man, 
and  he  wanted  to  be  king  in  Edward's  place.  He 
did  not  say  so  at  once,  and  he  pretended  to  be 
very  fond  of  his  little  nephew.  But  the  King's 
mother  knew  that  Richard,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
was  a  bad  man,  and  she  was  afraid  of  him.  She 
knew  that  he  wanted  Edward's  place,  but  vshe  was 
helpless.  Of  course  Edward  was  too  young  to  govern 
the  people  of  England,  so  his  uncle  was  made  pro- 
tector to  the  King,  —  that  is,  he  was  to  see  that  the 
King's  position  was  made  safe,  and  that  the.  country 
was  wisely  governed  until  Edward  should  become 
a  man.  This  gave  him  the  opportunity  that  he 
wanted. 


KING    EDWARD    THE   FIFTH.  219 

The  young  King  had  been  placed  in  the  care 
of  the  Earl  of  Rivers,  who  was  a  friend  of  the 
Queen  and  would  take  good  care  of  the  little  boy. 
But  Richard,  now  protector,  charged  that  Rivers 
was  a  traitor,  and  had  him  killed.  Then  he  took  the 
little  King  and  his  younger  brother,  only  eleven 
years  old,  and,  pretending  to  be  very  friendly,  rode 
with  them  on  horseback.  The  King  rode  with  his 
uncle  to  London.  The  uncle  bowed  very  low, 
appearing  to  have  great  affection  for  the  boy ;  then, 
as  if  afraid  something  might  happen  to  him,  he  had 
him  sent  to  the  Tower  of  London  to  live,  —  claiming 
that  this  was  the  safest  place,  —  and  he  had  the  King's 
younger  brother  sent  there  too. 

When  the  Queen  heard  this,  she  knew  that  Richard 
was  bound  to  have  the  lives  of  her  boys  and  the 
kingly  crown.  Then  Richard  arrested  all  of  the 
great  men  who  had  been  friends  of  the  late  King,  and 
who  w^ould  protect  the  little  King,  claiming  that 
they  w^ere  traitors,  and  many  of  them  he  killed. 
Soon  he  got  some  wicked  men,  who  were  afraid  of 
him,  to  stand  before  the  people  and  say  that  Richard 
should  be  King ;  and  some  of  them  cried  out,  "  God 
save  King  Richard  !  "  Richard  pretended  that  he  did 
not  want  this,  but  it  was  only  a  pretense,  and  soon  he 
said  that,  if  they  insisted,  he  would  be  their  King. 

At  this  time.  Sir  Robert  Brackenberry  had  charge 
of  the  Tower  of  London,  where  the  little  boys  were 


220  A    FOURTH    READER. 


living,  really  in  prison.  No  one  was  King.  Then 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester  told  Sir  Robert  to  kill  the 
boys.  Sir  Robert  was  not  bad  enough  for  that, 
and  refused  to  do  it;  so  Richard  placed  the  Tower  in 
charge  of  another  man,  Sir  Thomas  Tyrrel,  to  see 
if  he  would  not  kill  the  boys.  Tyrrel  was  a  bad 
man  and  a  coward.  He  hired  two  murderers  to  do 
the  terrible   deed  for  him. 

The  little  boys,  all  alone  in  the  great  castle,  seemed 
to  fear  that  something  terrible  was  to  happen.  The 
older  one  did  his  best  to  comfort  the  younger,  as 
you  see  in  the  picture.  {See  Frontispiece.)  Finally, 
after  saying  their  prayers,  they  went  to  bed,  and  in 
spite  of  their  fears,  were  soon  sound  asleep. 

The  two  murderers  crept  up  the  stairs  to  the  door 
of  the  chamber  where  the  two  little  boys  were.  They 
listened  at  the  door  to  see  if  they  Avere  awake. 
Hearing  no  noise,  they  softly  opened  the  door,  went 
stealthily  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  looked  down 
upon  the  two  sleeping  children;  but  no  pity  stirred 
their  wicked  hearts.  They  took  the  pillows  from  the 
bed  and  held  them  down  over  the  faces  of  the  cliildren 
until  they  were  smothered. 

This  was  the  end  of  the  little  King  Edward  ;  not  a 
happy  end.  Would  he  not  have  been  happier  had 
he  been  the  son  of  a  poor  man  ?  After  the  death  of 
the  boys,  Richard  became  King;  but  he,  too,  had 
his  troubles,   as  you  will  read   in  history. 


JOHN    GREENLEAF    WHITTIER. 


221 


XXIX.    JOHN  GREENLEAF   WHITTIER. 

1807-1892. 


Y 


OU  have  read 
about  the  poet 
Longfellow,  who  wrote 
^^The  Children's 
Hour"  and  ^'Hia- 
watha." There  was 
another  poet,  who  was 
a  friend  of  Mr.  Long- 
fellow, and,  like  him, 
loved  everything 
beautiful,  and  espe- 
cially loved  children; 
though,  unlike  Mr. 
Longfellow,  he  had 
none  of  his  own.  This  poet's  name  was  John  Green- 
leaf  Whittier. 

Mr.  Whittier  was  a  member  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  often  called  Quakers,  a  very  peaceful  people, 
who  do  not  believe  that  it  is  right  or  Christian  to 
fight.  Mr.  Whittier  could  not  go  to  college  when  he 
was  a  boy,  as  he  was  too  poor ;  but  he  studied  by 
himself,  and  shamed  other  boys  whose  parents  wanted 
them  to  go  to  school,  but  who  would  not  study.  Mr. 
Wliittier   lived  to  be  an    old   man^   and  had  a  very 


JOHN    GREENLEAF    WHITTIER. 


222 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


peaceful  and  happy  old  age,  because  he  had  done  so 
much  good  in  the  world  that  everybody  loved  him 
and  tried  to  make  his  last  years  pleasant.  Among 
his  poems  is  one  called  ^' The  Barefoot  Boy/'  which 
shows  how  well  he  knew  boys. 


XXX.    THE   BAREFOOT   BOY. 

By  John  Greexleaf  Whittier. 

iLESSINGS  on  thee,  little 
man, 
Barefoot  boy,  with  cheek  of  tan ! 
With    thy    turned-up 

pantaloons. 
And  thy  merry  whistled 

tunes ; 
With  thy  red  lip,  redder 

still 
Kissed    by    strawberries 

on  the  hill ; 
With    the    sunshine    on 

thy  face. 
Through  thy  torn  brim's 
jaunty^  grace; 
From  my  heart  I  give  thee  joy,  — 
I  was  once  a  barefoot  boy! 

1  jaun'ty,  showy. 


THE   BAREFOOT   BOY. 


THE    BAREFOOT    BOY.  223 


Prince  thou  art,  —  the  grown-up  man 
Only  is  republican.-^ 
Let  the  million-dollared  ride ! 
Barefoot,  trudging  at  his  side, 
Thou  hast  more  than  he  can  buy 
In  the  reach  of  ear  and  ey6, — 
Outward  sunshine,  inward  joy : 
Blessings  on  thee,  barefoot  boy! 

Oh  for  boyhood's  painless  play, 
Sleep  that  wakes  in  laughing  day. 
Health  that  mocks  the  doctor's  rules, 
Knowledge  never  learned  of  schools. 
Of  the  wild  bee's  morning  chase, 
Of  the  wild  flower's  time  and  place, 
Flight  of  fowl  and  habitude^ 
Of  the  tenants  ^  of  the  wood ; 
How  the  tortoise  bears  his  shell. 
How  the  woodchuck  digs  his  cell. 
And  the  ground  mole  sinks  his  well ; 
How  the  robin  feeds  her  young, 
How  the  oriole's  nest  is  hung; 
Where  the  whitest  lilies  blow, 
Where  the  freshest  berries  grow, 
Where  the  ground  nut  trails  its  vine, 
Where  the  wood  grape's  clusters  shine ; 

1  re-pub'li-can,  of  common  rank.  2  hab'i-tude,  habits. 

3  ten'ant,  one  who  lives  in. 


224  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Of  the  black  wasp's  cunning  way, 
Mason  of  his  walls  of  clay, 
And  the  architectural^  plans  . 
Of  gray  hornet  artisans  !  ^ 
For,  eschewing^  books  and  tasks, 
Nature  answers  all  he  asks ; 
Hand  in  hand  with  her  he  walks, 
Face  to  face  with  her  he  talks. 
Part  and  parcel  of  her  joy,  — 
Blessings  on  thee,  barefoot  boy  ! 

Oh  for  boyhood's  time  of  June, 
Crowding  years  in  one  brief  moon, 
When  all  things  I  heard  or  saw. 
Me,  their  master,  waited  for. 
I  was  rich  in  flowers  and  trees. 
Humming  birds  and  honeybees; 
For  my  sport  the  squirrel  played. 
Plied  the  snouted  mole  his  spade  ; 
For  my  taste  the  blackberry  cone 
Purpled  over  hedge  and  stone  ; 
Laughed  the  brook  for  my  delight 
Through  the  day  and  through  the  night 
Whispering  at  the  garden  wall, 
'  Talked  with  me  from  fall  to  fall ; 

^  ar-chi-tec'tur-al,  pertaining  to  mode  of  building. 
'^  ar'ti-sans.  workmen. 
*  es-chew'-ing,  avoiding. 


THE    BAREFOOT    BOY.  225 


Mine  the  sand-rimmed  pickerel  pond, 
Mine  the  wahmt  slopes  beyond, 
Mine,  unbending  orchard  trees, 
Apples  of    Hesperides  !  ^ 
Still  as  my  horizon^  grew. 
Larger  grew  my  riches  too; 
All  the  world  I  saw  or  knew 
Seemed  a  complex^  Chinese  toy, 
Fashioned  for  a  barefoot  boy ! 

Oh  for  festal*  dauities  spread, 
Like  my  bowl  of  milk  and  bread; 
Pewter  spoon  and  bowl  of  wood. 
On  the  doorstone,  gray  and  rude! 
O'er  me,  like  a  regal  tent. 
Cloudy-ribbed,  the  sunset  bent. 
Purple-curtained,  fringed  with  gold, 
Looped  in  many  a  wind-swung  fold; 
While  for  music  came  the  play 
Of  the  pied  ^  frogs'  orchestra ;  ^ 
And,  to  light  the  noisy  choir, 
Lit  the  fly  his  lamp  of  fire. 
I  was  monarch :  pomp  and  joy 
Waited  on  the  barefoot  boy  ! 

'  Hes-perl-des.     A  fabled  garden  in  Africa  which  produced  golden 
apples. 

^  ho-ri'zon,  extent  of  vision  (literally  the  edge  of  the  sky). 

^  com'-plex,  difficult  to  make ;  complicated. 

^  fes'tal,  pertaining  to  a  feast. 

^  pied,  spotted.  ®  or'ches-tra,  a  band  of  musicians. 


226  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Cheerily,  then,  my  little  man, 
Live  and  laugh,  as  boyhood  can ! 
Though  the  flinty  slopes  be  hard, 
Stubble-speared  the  new-mown  sward. 
Every  morn  shall  lead  thee  through 
Fresh  baptisms  of  the  dew  ; 
Every  evening  from  thy  feet 
Shall  the  cool  wind  kiss  the  heat : 
All  too  soon  these  feet  must  hide 
In  the  prison  cells  of  pride. 
Lose  the  freedom  of  the  sod, 
Like  a  colt's  for  work  be  shod, 
Made  to  tread  the  mills  of  toil. 
Up  and  down  in  ceaseless  moil : 
Happy  if  their  track  be  found 
Never  on  forbidden  ground ; 
Happy  if  they  sink  not  in 
Quick  and  treacherous  sands  of  sin. 
Ah  !  that  thou  couldst  know  thy  joy. 
Ere  it  passes,  barefoot  boy ! 


THE    BROWN    DWARF    OF    RUGEN.  227 


XXXI.     THE   BROWN   DWARF  OF   RUGEN. 

By  eJoHN  Greenleaf  Whittier. 

THE  pleasant  isle  of  Riigen 
looks  the  Baltic  water  o'er, 
To  the  silver-sanded  beaches  of 
the  Pomeranian^  shore; 


And  in  the  town  of  Rambin  a 

little  boy  and  maid 
Plucked  the  meadow  flowers  to- 
gether, and  in  the  sea  surf  played. 

Alike  were  they  in  beauty,  if  not  in  their  degree : 
He  was  the  Amptman's  '^  first-born,  the  miller's  child 
was  she. 

Now  of  old,  the  isle  of  Riigen  w^as  full  of  Dwarfs 

and  Trolls, 
The  brown-faced  little  Earthmen,  the  people  without 

souls ; 

And  for  every  man  and  woman    in  Rligen's  island 

found 
Walking   in   air   and  -  sunshine,    a   Troll  was   under^ 

ground. 

^  Pom-er-a'ni-a.  a  province  of  Prussia. 
2  Ampt'man,  chief  officer  of  a  province. 


228  A    FOURTH    READER. 


It  chanced,  the   little    maiden    one    morning  strolled 

away 
Among  the  haunted  Nine  Hills,  where  the  elves  and 

goblins  play. 

That  day,  in  barley  fields  below,  the  harvesters  had 

known 
Of  evil  voices  in  the  air,  and  heard  the  small  horns 

blown. 

She  came  not  back;  the  search  for  her  in  field  and 

wood  was*  vain ; 
They   cried    her   east,   they  cried  her   west,    but  she, 

came  not  again. 

"  She 's  down  among  the  Brown  Dwarfs,"  said  the 
dream-wives  wise  and  old, 

And  prayers  were  made,  and  masses  said,  and  Ram- 
bin's  church  bell   tolled. 

Five  years  her  father  mourned  her;  and  then  John 

Deitrich  said : 
"  I   will   find   my   little    playmate,   be   she   alive   or 

dead." 

He   watched    among   the   Nine   Hills,   he    heard   the 

Brow^n  Dwarfs  sing. 
And    saw   them   dance   by   moonlight    merrily   in    a 

ring. 


THE    BROWN    DWARF    OF    RUGEN.  229 

And  when  their  gay-robed  leader  tossed  up  his  cap 

of  red, 
Young   Deitrich  caught   it   as  it    fell,   and  thrust  it 

on  his  head. 

The  Troll  came  crouching  at  his  feet,  and  wept  for 

lack  of  it. 
"  Oh,  give  me  back  my  magic  ^^1^      ^^^ 


cap,  for  your  great   head       '''''^\^^    ^      ^^ 

unfit ! "  ^^^^^'~&\ 

"Nay,''    Deitrich    said;    "the       ^^^,^F>j^%^ 
Dwarf     who    throws    his         '^^^^?'"    ^^^^ 
charmed  cap  away 

Must  serve  its  finder  at  his  will,  and  for  his  folly  pay. 

"  You  stole  my  pretty  Lisbeth,  and  hid  her  in  the 

earth ; 
And  you  shall  ope    the   door   of   glass,   and   let   me 

lead  her  forth." 

"  She  will  not  come  ;  she  's  one  of  us  ;  she  's  mine  !  " 

the  Brown  Dwarf  said ; 
"  The  day  is  set,  the   cake    is  baked,   to-morrow  we 

shall  wed." 

"  The    fell  fiend  fetch  thee !  "    Deitrich   cried,    "  and 

keep  thy  foul  tongue  still. 
Quick !  open,  to  thy  evil  world,  the  glass  door  of  the 

hill ! " 


230  A    FOURTH    READER. 

The  Dwarf  obeyed ;   and  youth  and  Troll  down  the 

long  stairway  passed, 
And  saw  in  dim  and  sunless  light  a  country  strange 

and  vast. 

Weird/  rich,  and  wonderful,  he  saw  the  elfin  under- 

land,  — 
Its  palaces  of   precious  stones,  its  streets  of   golden 

sand. 

He    came    unto   a   banquet    hall,  with   tables    richly 

spread, 
Where  a  young  maiden  served  to  him  the  red  wine 

and  the  bread. 

How  fair  she  seemed  among  the  Trolls  so  ugly  and 

so  wild ! 
Yet    pale    and   very  sorrowful,    like    one  who   never 

smiled. 

Her    low,    sweet    voice,    her    gold-brown    hair,    her 

tender  blue  eyes  seemed 
Like  something  he  had  seen  elsewhere,  or  something 

he  had  dreamed. 

He  looked  ;  he    clasped    her  in  his  arms  ;    he   knew 

the  long-lost  one  ; 
"0   Lisbeth  !    see   thy  playmate,  —  I  am  the  Ampt- 


man  s  son  i 


1  weird,  strange. 


THE    BROWN    DWARF    OF    RUGEN.  231 

She  leaned  her  fair  head  on  his  breast,  and  through 

her  sobs  she  spoke  : 
"  Oh,  take  me  from   this  evil  place,    and   from   the 

elfin  folk! 

"And  let  me  tread  the  grass-green  fields,  and  smell 

the  flowers  again, 
And  feel  the  soft  wind  on  my  cheek,  and  hear  the 

dropping  rain ! 

"  And  oh,  to  hear  the   singing  bird,  the   rustling  of 

the  tree, 
The  lowing  cows,  the  bleat   of    sheep,  the  voices  of 

the  sea ! 

"  And  oh,  upon   my  father  s   knee  to   sit  beside  the 

door. 
And  hear  the  bell  of  vespers  ^  ring  in  Rambin  church 

once  more  !  " 

He  kissed  her  cheek,  he  kissed  her  lips;  the  Brown 

Dwarf  groaned  to  see. 
And    tore    his    tangled    hair,    and    ground    his    long 

teeth  angrily. 

But  Deitrich  said :  "  For  five  long  years  this  tender 

Christian  maid 
Has  served   you   in  your  evil  world,  and  well   must 
•    she  be  paid ! 

^  ves'pers,  evening  prayers. 


232  A    FOURTH    READER. 

"  Haste !  —  hither    bring     me    precious     gems,    the 

richest   in   your   store ; 
Then,  when  we  pass  the  gate  of  glass,  you  '11   take 

your  cap  once  more." 

No  choice  was  left  the  baffled  Troll ;  and,  murmur- 
ing, he  obeyed, 

And  filled  the  pockets  of  the  youth  and  apron  of 
the  maid. 

They   left  the   dreadful    under-land,   and    passed    the 

gate  of  glass; 
They  felt  the  sunshine's  warm  caress,  they  trod  the 

soft  green  grass. 

And  when,  beneath,  they  saw  the  Dwarf  stretch  up 

to  them  his  brown 
And    crooked    claw-like    fingers,  they  tossed   his  red 

cap  down. 

Oh,  never  shone  so  bright  a  sun,  was  never  sky  so 

blue. 
As  hand  in  hand  they  homeward  walked  the  pleasant 

meadows  through ! 

And    never    sang    the    birds    so    sweet    in    Rambin's 

woods  before. 
And  never  washed  the  waves  so  soft  along  the  Baltic 

shore  ; 


THE    BROWN    DWARF    OF    RUGEN.  233 

And  when  beneath  his  dooryard  trees  the  father  met 

his  child, 
The    bells    rung   out    their   merriest    peal,    the   folks 

with  joy  ran  wild. 

And    soon    from    Rambin's    holy    church    the    twain 

came    forth    as    one, 
The  Amptman  kissed  a  daughter,  the  miller  blest  a 

son. 

John  Deitrich's  fame  went  far  and  wide,  and  nurse 

and  maid  crooned^  o'er 
Their  cradle  song :  "  Sleep  on,  sleep  well,  the  Trolls 

shall  come  no  more  !  " 

For   in   the    haunted    Nine    Hills   he    set  a   cross  of 

stone ; 
And  Elf   and  Brown  Dwarf    sought   in  vain  a  door 

where  door  was  none. 

The   tower  he   built  in  Rambin,   fair  Rugen's   pride 

and  boast, 
Looked    o'er   the    Baltic    water    to    the    Pomeranian 

coast; 

And,  for  his  worth  ennobled,^  and  rich  beyond  com- 
pare, 

Count  Deitrich  and  his  lovely  bride  dwelt  long  and 
happy  there. 

^  crooned,  sang  in  a  low  tone. 

2  en-no'bled,  raised  to  a  high  rank. 


234 


A  FOURTH  READER. 


XXXII.  THE  NEST  OF  THE  GOLDEN  EAGLE. 

Adapted  from  John  Wilson   ("  Christopher  North.") 


IT  was  a  warm,  sunshiny  mid- 
summer day,  and  nearly  all 
>j  •  '  '■'  the  people  of  a  little  Scottish 
parish  were  busy  securing  their 
hay.  Huge  heaped-up  wagons 
that  almost  hid  from  view  the  horses  that  drew 
them  were  moving  in  all  directions  toward  the  snug 
farmyards.  Never  before  had  the  parish  seemed  so 
prosperous,  and  the  balmy  air  resounded  with  song 
and  laughter. 

When  the  trees  threw  the  shade  of  one  o'clock  on 
the  green  dial  face  of  the  earth,  the  horses  were  un- 
yoked and  took  instantly  to  grazing,  while  groups 
of  men,  women,  and  children  gathered  under  grove, 
bush,  and  hedgerow,  preparing  thankfully  to  par- 
take of  their  "  daily  bread.'' 


THE  NEST  OF  THE  GOLDEN  EAGLE.      235 

At  that  moment  the  great  Golden  Eagle,  the 
pride  and  the  pest  of  the  parish,  swooped  down  and 
flew  away  with  something  in  its  talons.^  One  single 
sudden  female  shriek  was  heard ;  then  shouts  and 
cries  as  if  a  church  spire  had  tumbled  down  on  a 
congregation  at  service. 

"  Hannah  Lamond's  bairn !  Hannah  Lamond's 
bairn ! "  was  the  loud,  fast-spreading  cry.  "  The 
eagle  has  taken  off  Hannah  Lamond's  bairn !  " 

In  another  instant  many  hundred  feet  were 
hurrying  toward  the  mountain.  Many  brooks  and 
two  miles  of  hill  and  dale  and  copse '^  lay  between; 
but  in  an  incredibly^  short  time  the  foot  of  the 
movmtain  was  alive  with  people. 

The  aerie  "^  was  well  known,  and  both  the  old  birds 
were  visible  on  the  rocky  ledge.  But  who  shall 
scale  that  dizzy  height,  which  Mark  Stewart,  the 
sailor  who  had  been  at  the  storming  of  a  fort, 
attempted  in  vain  ? 

All  kept  gazing,  weeping,  wringing  their  hands, 
—  some  rooted  to  the  ground,  others  running  to 
and  fro  in  dismay. 

"  What 's  the  use  —  what 's  the  use  of  any  poor 
human  efforts?     We  have  no  power  but  in  prayer! '' 

^  taFons,  claws. 

2  copse,  a  thick  wood  of  small  growth. 

8  in-cred'i-bly,  beyond  belief. 

^  ae'rie,  the  high  nest  of  a  bird ;  an  eyrie. 


236  A   FOURTH    READER. 


And  many  knelt  down,  —  fathers  and  mothers  think- 
ing of  their  own  babes. 

Hannah  Lamond  had  all  this  while  been  sitting 
on  a  rock,  with  a  face  perfectly  white,  and  eyes 
like  those  of  a  mad  person  fixed  on  the  aerie. 
Nobody  noticed  her,  for  even  pity  was  lost  in  the 
agony  of  eyesight. 

"  Only  last  week  was  my  sweet  bairn  baptized ! " 
and  on  uttering  these  words  she  flew  off  through  the 
bush  and  over  the  huge  stones,  up  —  up  —  up  — 
faster  than  ever  huntsman  ran  after  escaping  deer, 
fearless  as  a  goat  playing  among  the  precipices.  No 
one  doubted  —  no  one  could  doubt  —  that  she  soon 
would  be  dashed  to  pieces. 

No  stop,  no  stay.  She  knew  not  that  she  drew 
her  breath ;  she  thought  not  how  she  was  ever  to 
descend,  as  she  climbed  up  —  up  —  up  to  her  dar- 
ling. 

"  The  God  who  holds  me  now  from  perishing,  — 
will  not  the  same  God  save  me  when  my  child  is 
on  my  bosom?" 

Down  came  the  fierce  rushing  of  the  eagles'  wings, 
—  each  savage  bird  dashing  so  close  to  her  head 
that  she  saw  the  yellow  of  its  wrathful  eyes.  All  at 
once  the  birds  quailed '  and  were  cowed,  and  with  loud 
screams  flew  off  to  the  stump  of  an  ash  jutting  out  of 
a  cliff  a  thousand  feet  above  the  cataract. 


^  quailed,  shrank  away. 


THE  NEST  OF  THE  GOLDEN  EAGLE.      237 


A  last  effort,  and  the  frantic  mother,  falling  across 
the  aerie  in  the  midst  of  bones  and  blood,  clasps 
her  child,  —  not  dead  as  she  had  feared,  but  un- 
mangled,  and  swaddled^  just  as  it  was  when  she 
laid  it  down  to  sleep  among  the  fresh  hay  in  a  nook 
of  the  harvest  field. 

Oh,  what  a  pang  of  perfect  blessedness  passed 
through  her  heart  at  that  faint,  feeble  cry !  "  It  lives 
—  it  lives  —  it  lives!"  and  baring  her  bosom,  with 
loud  laughter  and  eyes  as  dry  stones  she  felt  the  lips 
of  the  unconscious  infant  once  more  murmuring  at 
the  fount  of  life  and  love ! 

But  how  to  descend !  Below  were  cliffs,  chasms, 
blocks  of  stone,  and  the  skeletons  of  old  trees  —  far, 
far  down,  and  dwindled  into  specks ;  and  a  thousand 
creatures  of  her  own  kind,  stationary  or  running 
to  and  fro ! 

No  hope !  no  hope !  Here  she  must  die ;  and 
these  horrid  beaks  and  eyes  and  talons  will  return, 
and  her  child  will  be  devoured  at  last,  even  within 
the  dead  bosom  that  can  protect  it  no  more ! 

But  suddenly  a  rotten  branch  breaks  off  from  the 
crumbling  rock.  Her  eyes  watch  its  fall ;  it  seemed 
to  stop  not  far  down  on  a  small  platform.  She  will 
follow  that  branch ! 

She  bound  her  child  to  her  bosom,  —  she  remem- 
bered  not   how   or   Avhen,   but   it   was   safe.      Then^ 

^  swad'dled,  wrapped  up. 


238  A    FOURTH    READER. 

scarcely  daring  to  open  her  eyes,  she  shd  down  the 
rocks,  and  found  herself  on  a  small  piece  of  firm, 
root-bound  soil,  with  bushes  appearing  below ! 

With  fingers  suddenly  strengthened  into  the  power 
of  iron,  she  swung  herself  down  by  brier,  and  heather, 
and  dwarf  birch.  Here  a  loosened  stone  leaped 
over  a  ledge,  and  no  sound  was  heard,  so  far  down 
was  its  fall ;  there  the  pebble  rattled  down  the 
rocks,  and  she  hesitated  not  to  follow.  Her  feet 
bounded  against  the  huge  stone  that  stopped  them, 
but  she  felt  no  pain.  Her  body  was  callous^  as  the 
cliff. 

Steep  as  the  upright  wall  of  a  house  was  now  the 
face  of  the  precipice.  But  it  was  matted  with  ivy, 
centuries^  old,  long  ago  dead  and  without  a  single 
green  leaf,  but  with  thousands  of  arm-thick  stems 
petrified^  into  the  rock,  and  covering  it  as  with  a 
trellis.  She  bound  her  baby  to  her  neck,  and  with 
hands  and  feet    clung  to  that  fearful  ladder. 

Turning  her  head  and  looking  down,  lo !  all  the 
people  in  the  parish  —  so  great  was  the  multitude  — 
on  their  knees !  And  hush !  the  voice  of  psalms ! 
a  hymn  breathing  the  spirit  of  one  united  prayer! 
An  unseen  hand  seemed  fastening  her  hands  to  the 
ribs   of   ivy,  and,  sudden    in   faith  that  her  life  was 

1  callous,  hard  ;  without  feeling. 

2  cen'tu-ries,  hundreds  of  years. 
*  pet'ri-fied,  turned  into  stone. 


THE  NEST  OF  THE  GOLDEN  EAGLE.      239 

to  be  saved,  she  became  almost  as  fearless  as  if  she 
had  been  changed  into  a  winged  creature. 

Again  her  feet  touched  stones  and  earth.  The 
psalm  was  hushed ;  but  a  tremulous  ^  sobbing  voice 
sounded  close  beside  her,  and  lo !  a  she-goat,  with 
two  little  kids,  at  her  feet ! 

"  Wild  heights,"  thought  she,  "  do  these  creatures 
climb,  but  the  dam  will  lead  down  her  kids  by  the 
easiest  paths ;  for,  oh  !  even  in  the  brute  creatures, 
what  is  the  power  of  a  mother's  love !  "  then  turn- 
ing her  head  she  kissed  her  sleeping  baby,  and  for 
the  first  time  she  wept. 

Overhead  frowned  the  front  of  the  precipice 
never  before  touched  by  human  hand  or  foot.  No 
one  had  ever  dreamed  of  climbing  it ;  but  all  the  rest 
of  this  part  of  the  movmtain-side,  though  scarred 
and  seamed,  yet  gave  some  footing,  and  more  than 
one  person  in  the  parish  had  reached  the  bottom  of 
the  cliff. 

Many  were  now  attempting  it,  and  before  the 
cautious  mother  had  followed  her  dumb  guide  a 
hundred  yards  the  head  of  one  man  appeared,  and 
then  the  head  of  another,  and  she  knew  that  God 
had  delivered  her  and  her  child  in  safety  into  the 
care  of  their  fellow  creatures. 

There  had  been  trouble  and  agitation,^  much  sob- 
bing and  many  tears,  among  the  multitude  while  the 

^  trem'u-lous,  trembling.       2  ag-i-ta'-tion,  excitement  of  feeling. 


240  A   FOURTH    READER. 

mother  was  scaling  the  cliffs ;  sublime  was  the  shout 
that  echoed  afar  the  moment  she  reached  the  aerie ; 
and  now  that  her  preservation  was  sure,  the  great 
crowd  rustled  like  a  wind-swept  wood. 

She  lay  as  in  death.  "  Fall  back,  and  give  her 
fresh  air !  "  said  the  old  minister  of  the  parish ;  and 
the  close  circle  of  faces  widened  about  her.  Hannah 
started  up  from  her  swoon,  and  looking  wildly  around 
cried,  "  Oh,  the  bird,  the  bird  !  the  eagle !  the  eagle ! 
the  eagle  has  carried  away  my  bonnie  wee  Walter ! 
Is  there  none  to  pursue?" 

A  neighbor  put  her  baby  to  her  breast;  and, 
shutting  her  eyes  and  smiting  her  forehead,  the 
sorely  bewildered  ^  creature  said,  in  a  low  voice,  '^  Am 
I  awake  ?  Oh,  tell  me  if  I  'm  awake,  or  if  all 
this  is  the  work  of  a  fever  or  the  delirium^  of  a 
dream?" 

1  be-Twil'dered,  greatly  perplexed. 

2  de-lir'i-um,  wild  fancies. 


THE    KITTEN    AND    THE    FALLING    LEAVES.        241 


XXXIII.     THE  KITTEN  AND  THE  FALLING   LEAVES. 


AViLLiAM  Wordsworth. 


HAT  way  look,  my  infant,  lo  ! 
What  a  pretty  baby  show ! 
See  the  kitten  on  the  wall, 
Sporting  with  the  leaves  that  fall, 
Withered  leaves  —  one  —  two  —  and 

three  — 
From  the  lofty  elder  tree ! 
Through  the  calm  and  frosty  air 
Of  this  morning  bright  and  fair 
Eddying^  round  and  round,  they  sink 
Softly,  slowly:  one  might  think. 
From  the  motions  that  are  made, 
Every  little  leaf  conveyed 
Sylph  ^  or  fairy  hither  tending, 
To  this  lower  world  descending, 


^  ed'dy-ing,  whirling. 

IG— 111 


-^  sylph,  a  slender,  fairy-like  woman. 


242  A   FOURTH    READER. 

Each  invisible  and  mute, 

In  his  wavering  parachute.^ 

—  But  the  kitten  —  how  she  starts, 

Crouches,  stretches,  paws,  and  darts ! 

First  at  one,  and  then  its  fellow, 

Just  as  light  and  just  as  yellow ; 

There  are  many  now  —  now  one  — 

Now  they  stop,  and  there  are  none. 

What  intenseness    of  desire 

In  her  upward  eye  of  fire ! 

With  a  tiger-leap  half  way 

Now  she  meets  the  coming  prey, 

Lets  it  go  as  fast,  and  then 

Has  it  in  her  power  again. 

Now  she  works  with  three  or  four, 

Like  an  Indian  conjurer;^ 

Quick  as  he  in  feats  of  art. 

Far  beyond  in  joy  of  heart. 

Were  her  antics  played  in  the  eye 

Of  a  thousand  standers-by, 

Clapping  hands,  with  shout  and^stare. 

What  would  little  Tabby  care 

For  the  plaudits  ^  of  the  crowd  ? 

Over-happy  to  be  proud. 

Over-wealthy  in  the  treasure 

Of  her  own  exceeding  pleasure. 

1  par'a-chute,  a  contrivance  like  an  umbrella,  for  descending. 

2  con'jur-er,  one  who  practices  magic  arts. 
*  plaud'its,  applause. 


THE    KITTEN    AND    THE    FALLING    LEAVES.       243 

'T  is  a  pretty  baby  treat ; 
Nor,  I  deem,  for  me  mimeet;^ 
Here,  for  neither  Babe  nor  me, 
Other  playmate  can  I  see. 
Of  the  countless  living  things. 
That  with  stir  of  feet  and  wings, 
(In  the  sun  or  under  shade. 
Upon  bough  or  grassy  blade). 
And  with  busy  revelings, 
Chirp  and  song,  and  murmurings, 
Made  this  orchard's  narrow  space. 
And  this  vale  so  blithe'''  a  place, — 
Multitudes  are  swept  away, 
Never  more  to  breathe  the  day : 
Some  are  sleeping;  some  in  bands 
Traveled  into  distant  lands; 
Others  slunk  to  moor  and  wood, 
Far  from  human  neighborhood ; 
And,  among  the  kinds  that  keep 
With  us  closer  fellowship. 
With  us  openly  abide. 
All  have  laid  their  mirth  aside. 

Where  is  he,  that  giddy  sprite, 
Blue-cap,  with  his  colors  bright, 
Who  was  blest  as  bird  could  be, 
Feeding  in  the  apple  tree? 

'  unmeet',  uufit.  ^  blithe,  joyous. 


244  A   FOURTH    READER. 


Made  such  wanton^  spoil  and  rout, 

Turning  blossoms  inside  out; 

Hung,  head  pointing  towards  the  ground, 

Fluttered,  perched,  into  a  round 

Bound  himself,  and  then  unbound; 

Lithest,^  gaudiest  harlequin  !  ^ 

Prettiest  tumbler  ever  seen ! 

Light  of  heart,  and  light  of  limb, 

What  is  now  become  of  him  ? 

Lambs,  that  through  the  mountains  went 

Frisking,  bleating  merriment. 

When  the  year  was  in  its  prime, 

They  are  sobered  by  this  time. 

If  you  look  to  vale  or  hill, 

If  you  listen,  all  is  still, 

Save  a  little  neighboring  rill. 

That  from  out  the  rocky  ground 

Strikes  a  solitary"*  sound. 

Vainly  glitter  hill  and  plain. 

And  the  air  is  calm  in  vain ; 

Vainly  Morning  spreads  the  lure^ 

Of  a  sky  serene  and  pure ; 

Creature  none  can  she  decoy  ^ 

Into  open  sign  of  joy ; 

Is  it  that  they  have  a  fear 

Of  the  dreary  season  near? 

1  wan'ton,  free ;  sportive.  *  soll-ta-ry,  single. 

2  lith'est,  most  active;  liniberest.  ^  lure,  attraction. 
^  har'le-quin,  clown ;  meny-maker.              ^  de-coy',  entrap. 


THE    KITTEN    AND    THE    FALLING    LEAVES.        245 

Or  that  other  pleasures  be 
Sweeter  even  than  gayety? 

Yet,  whatever  enjoyments  dwell 
In  the  unpenetrable^  cell 
Of  the  silent  heart  which  Nature 
Furnishes  to  every  creature ; 
Whatsoe'er  we  feel  and  know 
Too  sedate  ^  for  outward  show,  — 
Such  a  light  of  gladness  breaks, 
Pretty  kitten !  from  thy  freaks ; 
Spreads  with  such  a  living  grace 
O'er  my  little  Dora's  face. 
Yes,  the  sight  so  stirs  and  charms 
Thee,  Baby,  laughing  in  my  arms. 
That  almost  I  could  repine 
That  your  transports  ^  are  not  mine ; 
That  I  do  not  wholly  fare 
Even  as  you  do,  thoughtless  pair! 
And  I  will  have  my  careless  season 
Spite  of  melancholy  reason. 
Will  walk  through  life  in  such  a  way 
That,  when  time  brings  on  decay, 
Now  and  then  I  may  possess 
Hours  of  perfect  gladsomeness, 
—  Pleased  by  any  random^  toy; 
By  a  kitten's  busy  joy, 

'  im-pen'e-tra-ble,  that  cannot  be  entered.         «  trans'ports,  delights. 
2  se-date',  serious.  *  ran'dom,  chance. 


246 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


Or  an  infant's  laughing^  eye 

Sharing  in  the  ecstasy ;  ^ 

I  would  fare  like  that  or  this, 

Find  my  wisdom  in  my  bliss ; 

Keep  the  sprightly  soul  awake, 

And  have  faculties  ^  to  take. 

Even  from  things  by  sorrow  wrought, 

Matter  for  a  jocund^  thought; 

Spite  of  care,  and  spite  of  grief. 

To  gambol^  with  Life's  falling  leaf. 


XXXIV.     A   BOISTEROUS   WINTER   EVENING. 

By  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 


^/HAT  way  does  the  wind  come  ? 

What  way  does  he  go? 
He  rides  over  the  water,  and  over 
the  snow. 
Through  wood  and  through  vale  ;  and  o'er  rocky  height 
Which  the  goat  cannot  climb,  takes  his  sounding  flight. 

1  ec'sta-sy,  delight.  3  joc'und,  jolly ;  gay. 

2  fac'ul-ties,  powers ;  gifts  of  mind.  ■*  gam'bol,  sport. 


A    BOISTEROUS    WINTER    EVENING.  247 

He  tosses  about  in  every  bare  tree, 
As,  if  you  look  up,  you  plainly  may  see; 
But  how  he  will  come,  and  whither  he  goes, 
There  's  never  a  scholar  in  England  knows. 

He  will  suddenly  stop  in  a  cunning  nook, 

And  ring  a  sharp  larum ;  ^  —  but,  if  you  should  look. 

There  's  nothing  to  see  but  a  cushion  of  snow 

Round  as  a  pillow,  and  whiter  than  milk, 

And  softer  than  if  it  were  covered  with  silk. 

Sometimes  he  '11  hide  in  the  cave  of  a  rock, 

Then  whistle  as  shrill  as  the  buzzard  cock; 

Yet  seek  him,  and  what  shall  you  find  in  the  place  ? 

Nothing  but  silence  and  empty  space. 

Save,  in  a  corner,  a  heap  of  dry  leaves 

That  he  's  left,  for  a  bed,  to  beggars  or  thieves ! 

As  soon  as  't  is  daylight  to-morrow,  with  me 
You  shall  go  to  the  orchard,  and  then  you  will  see 
That  he  has  been  there,  and  made  a  great  rout,^ 
And  cracked  the  branches,  and  strewn  them  about ; 
Heaven  grant   that   he  spare   but   that  one  upright 

twig 
That  looked  up  at  the  sky  so  proud  and  big 
All  last  summer,  as  well  you  know, 
Studded  ^  with  apples,  a  beautiful  show ! 

^  lar'um,  an  alarm;  a  noise  to  warn. 

2  rout,  noise ;  tumult. 

3  stud'ded,  thickly  set,  as'  with  jewels 


248  A    FOURTH    READER. 


Hark !  over  the  roof  he  makes  a  pause, 
And  growls  as  if  he  would  fix  his  claws 
Right  in  the  slates,  and  with  a  huge  rattle 
Drive  them  down,  like  men  in  a  battle. 

But  let  him  range  ^  round,  —  he  does  us  no  harm ; 
We  build  up  the  fire,  we  're  snug  and  warm  ; 
Untouched  by  his  breath,  see  the  candle  shines  bright 
And  burns  with  a  clear  and  steady  light. 
Books  have  we  to  read  —  but  that  half-stifled  ^  knell,^ 
Alas !  't  is  the  sound  of  the  eight  o'clock  bell. 

Come,  now  we  '11  to  bed !  and  when  we  are  there, 
He  may  work  his  own  will,  and  what  shall  we  care ! 
He  may  knock  at  the  door,  —  we'll  not  let  him  in; 
May  drive  at  the  windows, — we'll  laugh  at  his  din; 
Let  him  seek  his  own  home,  wherever  it  be ; 
Here  's  a  cozy  warm  house  for  Edward  and  me. 

1  range,  rove  ;  wander. 

2  half-sti'-fled,  half-smotliered. 

^  kneU,  the  stroke  of  a  bell  on  some  sad  occasion. 


GOODY     BLAKE    AND    HARRY    GILL. 


249 


XXXV,     GOODY    BLAKE   AND    HARRY   GILL. 

A  TRUE   STORY. 
By   William    Wokdsworth. 


H  !  what 's  the  matter  ?  what 's 
the  matter  ? 
What    is  't   that   ails   young 
Harry  Gill? 
That  evermore    his  teeth  they  chatter,  — 

Chatter,  chatter,  chatter  still ! 
Of  waistcoats  Harry  has  no  lack, 

Good  duffle  gray,  and  flannel  fine; 
He  has  a  blanket  on  his  back, 

And  coats  enourfi  to  smother  nine. 


In  March,  December,  and  in  July, 
'Tis  all  the  same  with  Harry  Gill; 

The  neighbors  tell,  and  tell  you  truly, 
His  teeth  they  chatter,  chatter  still. 


250  A    FOURTH    READER. 

At  night,  at  mornings  and  at  noon, 
'T  is  all  the  same  with  Harry  Gill ; 

Beneath  the  sun,  beneath  the  moon, 
His  teeth  they  chatter,  chatter  still ! 

Young  Harry  was  a  lusty  drover, — 

And  who  so  stout  of  limb  as  he  ? 
His  cheeks  were  red  as  ruddy  clover; 

His  voice  was  like  the  voice  of  three. 
Old  Goody ^  Blake  was  old  and  poor; 

Ill-fed  she  was,  and  thinly  clad; 
And  any  man  who  passed  her  door 

Might  see  how  poor  a  hut  she  had. 

All  day  she  spun  in  her  poor  dwelling, 

And  then  her  three  hours'  work  at  night, - 
Alas !  't  was  hardly  worth  the  telling, 

It  would  not  pay-  for  candle-light. 
Remote  from  sheltered  village-green  — 

On  a  hill's  northern  side  she  dwelt, 
Where  from  sea-blasts  the  hawthorns  lean, 

And  hoary  dews  are  slow  to  melt. 

By  the  same  fire  to  boil  their  pottage,^ 
Two  poor  old  Dames,  as  I  have  known, 

Will  often  live  in  one  small  cottage ; 
But  she,  poor  woman !  housed  alone. 

^  Good'y,  old  woman. 

'  pot'tage,  food  cooked  in  a  pot. 


GOODY    BLAKE    AND    HARRY    GILL.  251 

'T  was  well  enough  when  summer  came, 
The  long,  warm,  lightsome  *  summer  day  ; 

Then  at  her  door  the  canty'"  dame 
Would  sit,  as  any  linnet  gay. 

But  when  the  ice  our  streams  did  fetter,^ 

Oh !  then  how  her  old  bones  w^ould  shake ! 
You  would  have  said,  if  you  had  met  her, 

'T  was  a  hard  time  for  Goody  Blake. 
Her  evenings  then  were  dull  and  dead  : 

Sad  case  it  was,  as  you  may  think, 
For  very  cold  to  go  to  bed, 

And  then  for  cold  not  sleep  a  wink. 

Oh,  joy  for  her !  whene'er  in  winter 

The  winds  at  night  had  made  a  rout, 
And  scattered  many  a  lusty  *  splinter 

And  many  a  rotten  bough  about. 
Yet  never:  had  she,  well  or  sick, 

As  every  man  who  knew  her  says, 
A  pile  beforehand,  turf  or  stick. 

Enough  to  warm  her  for  three  days. 

Now,  when  the  frost  was  past  enduring, 
'  And  made  her  poor  old  bones  to  ache, 
Could  anything  be  more  alluring^ 
Than  an  old  hedge  to  Goody  Blake? 

1  light'-some,  briglit.  ^  fet'ter,  bind. 

^  can'ty,  talkative ;  sprightly.  *  lust'y,  large ;  strong. 

^  al-lur'ing,  attractive. 


252  A    FOURTH    READER. 

And,  now  and  then,  it  must  be  said, 

When  her  old  bones  were  cold  and  chill, 

She  left  her  fire,  or  left  her  bed, 
To  seek  the  hedge  of  Harry  Gill. 

Now  Harry  he  had  long  suspected 

This  trespass  of  old  Goody  Blake, 
And  vowed  that  she  should  be  detected, 

That  he  on  her  would  vengeance  take. 
And  oft  from  his  warm  fire  he  'd  go, 

And  to  the  fields  his  road  would  take; 
And  there,  at  night,  in  frost  and  snow. 

He  watched  to  seize  old  Goody  Blake. 

And  once,  behind  a  rick  of  barley. 

Thus  looking  out  did  Harry  stand  ; 
The  moon  was  full  and  shining  clearly. 

And  crisp  with  frost  the  stubble  land. 
—  He  hears  a  noise,  —  he  's  all  awake  !  — 

Again  !  —  on  tiptoe  down  the  hill 
He  softly  creeps.    'Tis  Goody  Blake! 

She 's  at  the  hedge  of  Harry  Gill. 

Right  glad  was  he  when  he  beheld  her; 

Stick  after  stick  did  Goody  pull ; 
He  stood  behind  a  bush  of  elder 

Till  she  had  filled  her  apron  full. 
V/'hen  with  her  load  she  turned  about, 
.  The  by-way  back  again  to  take. 


GOODY  BLAKE   AND   HARRY  GILL.  25d 


He  started  forward  with  a  shout, 
And  sprang  upon  poor  Goody  Blake. 

And  fiercely  by  the  arm  he  took  her^ 

And  by  the  arm  he  held  her  fast, 
And  fiercely  by  the    arm  he  shook  her, 

And  cried,  "  I  've  caught  you,  then,  at  last ! " 
Then  Goody,  who  had  nothing  said, 

Her  bundle  from  her  lap  let  fall ; 
And,  kneeling  on  the  sticks,  she  prayed 

To  God  who  is  the  judge  of  all. 

She  prayed,  her  withered  hand  uprearing, 

While  Harry  held  her  by  the  arm, — 
"God,  who  art  never  out  of  hearing. 

Oh,  may  he  never  more  be  warm  !  " 
The  cold,  cold  moon  above  her  head, 

Thus  on  her  knees  did  Goody  pray; 
Young  Harry  heard  what  she  had  said, 

And  icy  cold  he  turned  away. 

He  went  complaining  all  the  morrow 

That  he  was  cold  and  very  chill : 
His  face  was  gloom,  his  heart  was  sorrow, — 

Alas !  that  day  for  Harry  Gill ! 
That  day  he  wore  a  riding-coat. 

But  not  a  whit  the  warmer  he  : 
Another  was  on  Thursday  brought, 

And  ere  the  Sabbath  he  had  three. 


254  A    FOURTH    READER. 

'T  was  all  in  vain,  a  useless  matter,  — 

And  blankets  were  about  him  pinned; 
Yet  still  his  jaws  and  teeth  they  clatter, 

Like  a  loose  casement  in  the  wind. 
And  Harry's  flesh  it  fell  away; 

And  all  who  see  him  say,  'T  is  plain, 
That,  live  as  long  as  live  he  may, 

He  never  will  be  warm  again. 

No  word  to  any  man  he  utters, 

Abed  or  up,  to  young  or  old ; 
But  ever  to  himself  he  mutters, 

'^  Poor  Harry  Gill  is  very  cold." 
Abed  or  up,  by  night  or  day. 

His  teeth  they  chatter,  chatter  still. 
Now  think,  ye  farmers  all,  I  pray. 

Of  Goody  Blake  and  Harry  Gill! 


XXXVI.     MARCH. 

By  William  Wordsworth. 

THE  cock  is  crowing,  the  stream  is  flowing, 
The  small  birds  twitter,  the  lake  doth  glitter. 
The  green  field  sleeps  in  the  sun ; 
The    oldest    and    youngest    are    at    work    with    the 

stronge.st ; 
The  cattle  are  grazing,  their  heads  never  raising; 
There  are  forty  feeding  like  one ! 


HOW    THE    LEAVES    CAME    DOWN. 


255 


XXXVII.     HOW  THE   LEAVES   CAME   DOWN. 

By  Susan  Coolidge. 


'LL  tell  you  how  the  leaves 
came  down/' 
The  great  Tree  to  his  chil- 
dren said  : 
"  You  're  getting  sleepy,  Yel- 
•    low  and  Brown^ 
Yes,    very     sleepy,     little 

Red. 
It  is  quite  time  to  go  to 
bed." 

"  Ah  ! ''  begged  each  silly,  pouting  leaf, 

"  Let  us  a  little  longer  stay ; 
Dear  Father  Tree,  behold  our  grief! 

'T  is  such  a  very  pleasant  day, 

We  do  not  want  to  go  away." 

So,  for  just  one  more  merry  day 
To  the  great  Tree  the  leaflets  clung, 

Frolicked  and  danced,  and  had  their  way. 
Upon  the  autumn  breezes  swung, 
Whispering  all  their  sports  among  — 

"Perhaps  the  great  Tree  will  forget, 

And  let  us  stay  until  the  spring. 
If  we  all  beg,  and  coax,  and  fret." 


256  A    FOURTH    READER. 

But  the  great  Tree  did  no  such  thing; 
He  smiled  to  hear  their  whispering. 

^^Come,  ciiildren,  all  to  bed,"  he  cried; 

And  ere  the  leaves  could  urge  their  prayer. 

He  shook  his  head,  and  far  and  wide, 
Fluttering  and  rustling  everywhere, 
Down  sped  the  leaflets  through  the  air. 

I  saw  them ;  on  the  ground  they  lay,    . 
Golden  and  red,  a  huddled  swarm, 

Waiting  till  one  from  far  away, 

White  bedclothes  heaped  upon  her  arm. 
Should  come  to  wrap  them  safe  and  warm. 

The  great  bare  Tree  looked  down  and  smiled. 

"  Good  night,  dear  little  leaves,"  he  said. 
And  from  below  eacli  sleepy  child 

Replied,  "  Good  night,"  and  murmured, 

"  It  is  so  nice  to  go  to  bed  !  " 


XXXVIII.     GREECE   AND   THE   GREEKS. 

THE  ancient  Greeks  were  a  very  wonderful  people. 
They  lived  on  a  sunny  peninsula  in  southern 
Europe,  with  the  sea  always  near  them.  Their  land 
was  interspersed  with  beautiful  hills  crowned  with  trees, 
and  with  valleys  covered  with  flowers,  and  fruits,  and 
grains.  Indeed,  everything  about  them  was  so  charm- 
ing that  the  Greeks  thought  more   of  beauty  than  of 


GREECE  AND  THE  GREEKS. 


257 


all  things  else.  Their  minds  were  filled  with  poetry. 
They  imagined  wonderful  beings  in  every  spot,  be- 
longing to  every  hill  and  tree  and  stream. 

These  beings  were  their  gods,  and  about  them  they 
told  wonderful  tales,  for  they  thought  that  the  gods 
were  everywhere  and  did  everything.     Every  shower, 


RUINS  OF  OLYMPIA. 


every  flash  of  lightning,  every  springtime  crop  and 
autumn  harvest,  every  bunch  of  grapes,  every  sunset 
glow,  was  caused  by  some  god. 

As  we  know  from  our  geographies,  this  world 
is  a  ball  flying  around  the  sun ;  but  the  Greeks 
thought  it  was  round  and  flat  like  a  plate.     In  the 


258  A    FOURTH    READER. 

center  was  Mount  Olympus,  where  the  gods  lived. 
All  around  it  was  the  River  Ocean,  which  ran  from 
south  to  north  on  the  western  side,  and  from  north  to 
south  on  the  eastern  side.  Across  the  middle  of  this 
round  plate  of  an  earth  ran  "  The  Sea/'  as  they  called 
the  great  Mediterranean  and  Black  seas  combined. 

In  the  far  north  lived  a  happy  people,  the  Hyper- 
boreans as  they  were  called,  and  from  the  caves 
where  they  lived  came  the  chill  north  winds.  These 
people  never  were  sick,  nor  did  they  grow  old. 

In  the  far  south  lived  the  Ethiopians,  who  were 
also  always  happy.  The  gods  were  so  fond  of  them 
that  they  used  to  go  from  Olympus  often  to  eat  at 
their  banquets. 

Away  in  the  west  by  the  River  Ocean  were  the 
beautiful  Elysian  Fields,  where  good  people  were 
sent  by  the  gods  to  live  forever.  From  the  east 
the  sun  came,  and  the  moon,  rising  out  of  the  ocean. 

This  was  the  world  as  the  Greeks  believed  it  to 
be.  Their  fancies  made  everything  lovely  which 
they  did  not  know.  It  was  only  in  the  middle  of 
this  world,  where  they  lived,  that  trouble  ever  came. 
The  gods  ruled  over  all.  Besides  the  lesser  gods 
who  lived  in  the  brooks  and  trees,  there  were  the 
great  gods,  a  whole  family  of  them,  who  lived  on 
Mount  Olympus.  These  were  all  the  children  and 
grandchildren  of  Cronos  and  Rhea,  —  both  of  an 
ancient  race  known  as  Titans. 


MOUNT    OLYMPUS   AND    ITS   INHABITANTS.       259 


XXXIX.     MOUNT  OLYMPUS  AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.^ 


MOUNT  OLYMPUS  was  shut  out  from  the 
people  who  lived  on  the  world  by  gates  of 
clouds,  which  were  kept  by  the  four  goddesses  of  the 
seasons,  named  Horae,  who  opened  the  gates  to  let 
the  gods  out  if  they  wanted  to  visit  the  earth,  and 
to  let  them  in  when  they  returned. 

On  this  Mount  Olympus,  where  the  gods  lived,  each 
had  his  own  house;  but  for  banquets,  and  when 
they  wished  to  confer  with  one  another  about  what 
was  going  on  upon  the  earth,  they  all  went  to  Zeus's 
palace,  which  was  larger  and  finer  than  the  rest ;  for 
Zeus  was  the  greatest  of  all  the  gods,  and  the  king 
of  them  all.  The  Greeks  pictured  him  usually  as 
a  great  man  with  long  hair  and  a  vast  flowing  beard, 
very  large  and  strong,  holding  in  his  hands  a  bundle 

1  In  the  following  stories  from  Greek  mythology,  the  Greek  names 
have  been  used.  As  the  Latin  equivalents  are  more  commonly  known, 
they  are  given  herewith  :  — 


GREEK. 

Cronos   . 

Zeus 
Hera 
Phoebus 
Athene  . 
Hephaestus 
Artemis 
Ares .     . 
Aphrodite 


ROMAN. 

Saturn. 

Jupiter. 

Juno. 

Apollo. 

Minerva. 

Vulcan. 

Diana. 

.  Mars. 

Veuus. 


GREEK. 

Eros   .     . 
Hermes  . 
Hebe  .     . 
Pluto .     . 
Poseidon 
Demeter 
Heracles 
Persephone 
Eos     .     . 


ROMAN. 

.  Cupid. 
Mercury. 
Juventas. 
.  .  Dis. 
Neptune. 
Ceres. 
Hercules. 
Proserpina. 
.  Aurora. 


260  A    FOURTH    READER 


of  thunderbolts;  for  it  was  he  who  thundered  and 
hurled  the  shafts  of  lightnmg  to  the  earth  if  he  was 
angry. 

Among  the  other  gods  who  used  to  meet  at  these 
banquets  was  Hera,  who  was  Zeus's  wife,  —  a  tall, 
beautiful  goddess  with  yellow  hair  and  blazing  eyes, 
very  charming  at  times,  and  at  other  times  very 
bitter  and  jealous.  She  was  almost  the  only  one 
who  was  not  afraid  of  Zeus. 

Then  there  was  Phoebus,  the  god  of  the  sun  and 
of  music,  who  used  to  play  upon  the  lyre  and  sing 
the  most  beautiful  songs,  so  that  even  the  gods  were 
charmed. 

Athene  was  the  goddess  of  wisdom,  a  very  noble 
and  stately  goddess,  dignified  yet  gentle,  who  gave  to 
men  the  best  of  all  gifts,  wisdom. 

Hephaestus  was  the  worker  among  the  gods.  He 
built  the  palaces  in  which  the  gods  lived;  he  made 
the  armor  which  they  wore,  the  chariots  in  which 
they  rode,  and  the  tables  from  which  they  ate  at 
their  banquets.  In  short,  if  the  gods  wanted  any- 
thing made,  they  went  down  to  Hephsestus  where  he 
worked  in  his  shop  underneath  Mount  ^tna,  and  he 
made  them  whatever  they  called  for,  from  a  palace 
to  a  pair  of  golden  shoes. 

It  is  said  that  Hephaestus  once  displeased  his  father 
Zeus,  so  that  Zeus  threw  him  from  heaven.  He 
was  a  whole  day  in  falling,  and  was  so  injured  by  his 


MOUNT    OLYMPUS    AND    ITS    INHABITANTS.        261 


Sculptor  unknown. 
AN    ANTIQUE    BUST    OF    ZEUS. 


"  For  Zeus  was  the  greatest  of  all  the  gods,  and  the  king  of  them  alU 
(Page  259.) 


262  A   FOURTH    READER. 

fall  that  he  was  always  lame  afterwards ;  but,  though 
lame  and  ugly,  he  was  very  wise,  and  the  gods  liked 
him  for  the  beautiful  things  he  made  for  them. 

Artemis  was  the  goddess  of  hunting  and  of  the 
moon,  as  Phoebus  was  god  of  the  sun.  These  two 
were  brother  and  sister,  and  furnished  nearly  all 
the  light  men  had  by  day  or  night.  Artemis  was 
tall  and  strong  and  swift,  and  as  good  a  hunter 
as  her  brother  Phoebus. 


A  WAR  GALLEY. 


Ares  was  the  god  of  war,  for  war  was  one  of  the 
chief  occupations  of  men.  He  stirred  up  nations  to 
strife,  and  rejoiced  in  the  noise  and  blood  of  battle. 

Aphrodite^  was  the  goddess  of  love  and  beauty; 
she  was  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  goddesses,  and 
King  Zeus's  favorite  daughter.  No  one  could  look 
upon  her  without  loving  her,  and  she  had  almost  as 
many   admirers   on  earth    as  in  heaven.     She  had  a 

*  Aph-ro-di  te  (Af-ro-di'te). 


MOUNT  OLYMPUS  AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.   263 


son,  Eros,  a  mischievous  little  rascal,  who  had  a  bow 
and  arrow  with  which  he  used  to  torment  both  gods 


Raphael  Mengs, 
EROS. 

**  Eros,  a  mischievous  little  rascal,  who  had  a  bow  and  arrow.'' 

and  men ;  for  whoever  was  struck  by  one  of  his 
arrows  was  sure  to  fall  in  love  with  the  first  person 
whom  he  afterwards  met ;    and  as  Eros  was  not  at 


264  A    FOURTH    READER. 

all  careful  whom  he  wounded,  or  when  or  where,  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  was  caused,  and  a  great  many 
were  in  love  with  very  strange  beings. 

There  were  still  other  gods.  There  was  Hermes, 
another  son  of  Zeus,  who  was  god  of  commerce  and  of 
gymnastic  exercises.  He  was  also  Zeus's  messenger, 
and  wore  wings  on  his  hat  and  on  his  sandals  ;  and 
w^henever  Zeus  wished  to  send  news  to  the  earth, 
Hermes  would  fly  down  faster  than  you  can  think, 
and  do  his  father's  bidding.  He  invented  the  lyre 
upon  which  Phoebus  played,  and  gave  it  to  him  for 
a  present.  . 

These  gods,  and  sometimes  others,  used  to  meet  in 
the  banquet  hall  of  Zeus  and  talk  with  one  another 
over  the  affairs  of  men  and  over  their  own  affairs. 
The  food  which  they  ate  w^as  called  ambrosia,  and 
the  drink,  nectar,  —  food  and  drink  for  gods  alone 
They  were  waited  upon  by  the  beautiful  little  goddess 
Hebe,  who,  fleet  of  foot  and  sw^eet  of  smile,  flitted 
about  the  banquet  tables  and  supplied  their  wants. 

These  banquets  were  not  always  as  pleasant  as 
they  might  have  been ;  for  the  gods  did  not  always 
agree,  and  sometimes  they  had  very  bitter  and  very 
foolish  quarrels,  —  a^  when  three  of  the  goddesses 
quarreled  over  the  question  as  to  which  of  them  was 
the  most  beautiful. 

Zeus  had  two  brothers,  who  did  not,  however,  live 
on  Mount   Olympus,  though   they  were   great   gods. 


MOUNT    OLYMPUS    AND    ITS    INHABITANTS.       265 


"  There  was  Hermes,  another  so7i  of  Zeus.  .  .  .  Whenever  Zeus  ivished  to  send 
news  to  the  earth,  Hermes  loould  fly  down  faster  than  you  can  think,  and  do  his 
father'' s  bidding ^     (l^'^ge  264.) 


266  A  FOURTH   READER. 

Their  names  were  Hades,  or  Pluto^  and  Poseidon. 
These  three  brothers  rebelled  against  their  father 
Cronos,  and  conquered  him,  and  then  divided  his 
kingdom  among  themselves,  —  Zeus  taking  Oljmpus; 
Poseidon  choosing  to  be  ruler  of  the  sea;  and  Pluto 
having  to  take  as  his  'share  all  that  was  left,  those 
regions  underneath  the  earth  which  were  called  the 
lower  world. 

If  you  remember,  the  Greeks  thought  that  the- 
world  was  flat  like  a  plate,  so  that  under  it  there 
would  be  quite  as  much  room  as  above  it;  and  here 
all  those  who  died  —  that  is,  all  those  who  ceased 
to  live  above  the  earth  —  went,  and  over  them  Pluto, 
or  Hades,  reigned.  So  his  was  a  great  kingdom, — 
perhaps  larger  than  that  of  either  of  his  brothers,  but 
dark  and  gloomy. 

These  three  brothers  also  had  a  sister,  Demeter  by 
name,  and  they  assigned  to  her  to  rule  over  the 
fruitful  earth.  She  was  the  goddess  especially  dear 
to  the  farmers,  for  she  made  their  fields  fertile,  and 
the  crops  to  grow  by  which  they  lived. 

Besides  these  great  gods  there  were  lesser  ones, 
who  were  supposed  to  live  in  trees  and  fountains, 
and  were  known  as  nymphs  and  satyrs.  The  satyrs 
were  very  amusing.  They  had  heads  like  men,  with 
long  pointed  ears,  and  legs  and  tails  like  goats,  and 
used  to  play  very  many  pranks  to  amuse  gods  and  men. 

There  ..were  still  other  gods.      Often  a  great  hero 


PHAETHON.  267 


who  had  done  some  brave  deed  in  war,  or  had 
rendered  some  great  service  to  man,  was  made  a 
god  and  worshiped  when  he  died.  Such  a  one  was 
Hercules,  who  was  the  strongest  of  men,  and  who 
performed  wonderful  feats. 

A  Greek  child  could  not  so  much  as  play  at  a 
game,  could  not  cut  a  whip,  or  bathe  in  a  stream, 
without  feeling  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  some 
god  who  might  be  very  angry  with  him  if  he  did 
the  slightest  wrong. 


XL.     PHAETHON. 

PHQSBUS,  the  sun  god,  had  a  son  named  Phaethon. 
Now  Phaethon  had  grown  up  to  be  quite  a  large 
boy,  but  still  did  not  know  his  father,  because  Phoebus 
was  away  all  day  driving  the  sun  chariot  through 
the  heavens.  He  never  missed  a  day ;  for  if  he  had, 
all  the  earth  would  have  been  in  darkness,  and  every- 
body would  have  said,  "  Where  is  the  sun  ? " 

Awful  things  might  have  happened.  Phoebus 
knew  this,  and  was  very  careful.  So  the  light  of 
the  sun  god's  chariot  always  shone  on  the  earth  all 
day  long,  except  once  in  a  while  when  his  sister 
Artemis  drove  the  moon  chariot  across  his  path, 
between  him  and  the  earth.  This  men  called  an 
eclipse,  but  it  never  lasted  long. 


268  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Thus  Phoebus  was  kept  busy  all  day,  and  could  never 
see  his  children.  He  could  not  take  them  riding 
with  him  in  his  chariot,  for  that  would  have  been 
dangerous ;  and  at  night  he  had  to  go  to  Olympus  to 
dine  with  the  gods,  and  consult  with  them  afterward. 
So  the  little  boy  Phaethon  had  never  seen  his  father. 

One  day  Phaethon's  schoolmates  were  boasting 
about  their  fathers  and  the  wonderful  things  they 
could  do.  Phaethon  at  first  said  nothing,  and  one  of 
the  boys  turned  to  him  and  said,  "  You  have  no 
father." 

"  I  have  indeed,"  said  Phaethon  ;  "  my  father  is 
Phoebus,  the  great  sun  god.  That  is  he  driving  his 
chariot  through  the  heavens  now,"  and  he  pointed  up 
to  the  sun. 

The  boys  all  laughed  at  this,  and  did  not  believe 
it.  ^^If  he  is  your  father,"  said  they,  ^^why  do  you 
not  take  a  ride  with  him  ? " 

At  this  Phaethon  was  very  angry,  and  ran  home 
in  great  distress  to  his  mother,  and  said,  "  Mother, 
is  not  Phoebus,  the  sun  god,  my  father  ?  The  boys 
say  he  is  not." 

"  Surely  he  is,"  said  the  mother,  "  and  it  is  time 
that  you  saw  him ;  so  I  will  send  you  on  a  journey 
to  him,  for  the  sun  rises  in  the  eastern  land  just 
next  to  ours." 

At  this  Phaethon  was  delighted,  and  told  the  boys, 
"  I  am  going  to  visit  my  father  in  the  land  where  the 


PHAETHON. 


269 


Jean  Antoine  IIoudon. 


aktp:mis. 

'Artemis  was  the  goddess  of  hunting  and  of  the  moon."     (Page  262). 


270  A    FOURTH    READER. 


sun  rises;''  but  they  laughed  at  him.  "Wait  until 
you  see  me  driving  the  chariot  of  the  sun  myself, 
then  you  will  believe  me.''  So  off  he  set  upon  his 
journey,  full  of  eager  hope,  and  anxious  to  see  his 
father. 

The  palace  of  the  sun  was  the  most  beautiful  ever 
built.  It  was  made  by  Hephaestus,  the  architect 
among  the  gods.  It  was  built  on  tall  columns  covered 
with  gold  and  jewels.  The  ceilings  were  made  of 
ivory,  and  the  doors  of  silver.  The  most  beautiful 
scenes  were  painted  and  carved  on  the  ceilings  and 
walls;  there  was  a  golden  sea,  with  beautiful  fishes, 
and  with  sea  nymphs  floating  on  the  waves  and  riding 
on  the  backs  of  dolphins ;  there  were  pictures  of  the 
earth,  with  forests  and  towns,  flowers  and  fields ;  and 
there  was  carved  a  picture  of  the  heavens,  filled  with 
glittering  stars. 

How  do  you  suppose  Phaethon  felt  as  for  the  first 
time  he  beheld  this  beautiful  palace,  and  knew  that 
it  was  his  father's? 

But  he  went  boldly  in,  and  kept  on  his  way  until 
he  came  to  where .  Phoebus  was  sitting  on  the  sun 
throne,  with  Day  and  Month  and  Year  and  the  Hours, 
Spring  and  Summer  and  Autumn  and  Winter,  waiting 
around  him.  Phoebus  smiled  kindly  at  the  boy,  and 
said,  "What  brings  you  here,  my  son?" 

"  0  Phoebus,  my  father.  Light  of  the  world ! "  said 
Phaethon,  "give   me    some   proof   that   you  are  my 


PHAETHON.  271 


father,  I  pray,  that  I  may  convince  the  boys  who 
laughed  at  me  !  " 

^^ Indeed  I  will/'  said  Phoebus.  "Ask  what  you 
want,  and  I  will  do  it  for  you." 

At  this  promise,  Phaethon  was  delighted,  and  a 
bold  thought  entered  his  mind.  ''  Let  me,  then,"  he 
said,  "  drive  your  chariot  for  one  day  ! " 

His  father,  though  his  countenance  was  as  bright 
as  the  sun,  almost  grew  pale  at  this  request ;  it  was 
more  than  he  had  expected  his  son  to  ask. 

"  0  my  boy !  "  he  said,  "  I  beg  you  not  to  urge 
this ;  you  do  not  know  what  you  ask.  Not  even  the 
gods  can  drive  my  chariot.  Zeus  himself,  though 
with  his  right  hand  he  can  hurl  the  thunderbolts, 
could  not  drive  my  steeds. 

"  The  road  is  high  and  steep,  and  runs  among 
terrible  monsters,  —  the  bull  and  the  archer,  the  lion 
and  the  scorpion,  and  the  great  crab.  Besides,  the 
circle  of  the  heavens  turns  under  it,  which  makes  it 
hard  to  sit  in  the  seat ;  then  the  horses  are  so  fiery 
that  they  breathe  fire  through  their  nostrils.  I  am 
afraid  you  will  imperil  earth  and  heaven,  and  lose 
your  own  life ;  for  I  have  promised,  and  must  do  it 
if  you  insist.  Ask  anything  else  you  will,  and  I  will 
do  it." 

But  Phaethon,  like  many  another  boy,  said :  "  Oh, 
I  can  drive  the  horses,  and  you  have  promised  ;  do 
not  fret  for  me.     You  have  forgotten  what  a  boy  can 


272  '  A    FOURTH    READER. 

do."  So  Phoebus  was  obliged  sadly  to  consent,  and 
told  the  Hours  to  harness  the  horses  and  get  the 
chariot  ready. 

The  chariot  was  the  most  wonderful  one  ever  made ; 
even  Hephsestus,  who  built  it,  never  made  anything 
more  beautiful.  It  was  all  of  gold  and  silver,  with 
diamonds  and  other  precious  stones  set  about  it. 
Never  were  such  horses !  They  sped  away  faster 
than  the  wind,  and  they  breathed  fire  as  they 
went. 

But  the  time  had  come.  The  stars  were  slowly  led 
away  by  the  day  star;  Eos,  the  rosy-fingered  goddess 
of  the  morning,  rolled  away  the  crimson  clouds  which 
are  the  doors  of  the  east,  and  everything  was  ready 
for  the  coming  of  the  sun.  Phoebus  put  the  rays  on 
the  head  of  the  boy,  and  told  him  how  to  drive : 
^^Hold  on  tight,"  he  said,  ^^and  do  not  use  the  whip, 
lest  the  horses  run  away.  Be  careful  that  you  do 
not  drive  too  high,  for  you  might  scorch  the  heavens, 
the  dwellings  of  the  gods ;  nor  too  low,  for  you  might 
burn  up  the  earth.  The  middle  course  is  the  safest 
and  best." 

Phaethon  smiled  at  this  advice  of  his  father.  "  Oh, 
I  know  how  to  drive,"  he  said,  and  sprang  into  the 
chariot,  took  the  reins,  and  called  out  to  the  eager 
horses.  They  rushed  forth,  and  soon  left  the  eastern 
clouds  behind  them.  They  noticed  that  the  chariot 
seemed    light,    and    the    hand    that   held    the   reins 


PHAETHON. 


273 


18— lit 


S74  A   FOURTH    READER. 

unsteady  ;  and  away  they  sped,  paying  no  attention 
to  the  feeble   pulls  of  Phaethon  upon  the  reins. 

Up  and  down,  high  in  the  heavens  and  close  to 
the  earth  they  ran.  The  great  and  little  bears  were 
so  scorched  that  they  thought  their  end  had  come. 
The  scorpion,  frightened  and  angered,  stretched  his 
two  great  claws  towards  him.  Phaethon  lost  control 
completely,  and  dropped  the  reins  over  the  golden 
dash-board,  and  the  horses  plunged  on.  So  near  did 
they  come  to  the  earth  that  great  cities  and  forests 
were  burned,  and  mountains  —  even  Olympus,  the 
dwelling-place  of  the  gods  —  were  scorched. 

The  world  was  on  fire,  rivers  were  dried  up ;  then 
the  people  of  Ethiopia  became  black,  and  have  been 
so  ever  since.  The  plains  in  Central  Africa  became  so 
dry  that  they  never  produced  vegetation  afterwards, 
and  the  Great  Desert  of  Sahara  still  remains  a  proof 
of  Phaethon's  folly. 

Then  the  Earth  cried  out  to  Zeus  :  "  0  ruler  of 
the  gods  !  why  do  you  allow  us  to  perish  ?  What 
have  I  and  my  children  done  to  deserve  this  pun- 
ishment, this  great  heat  ?  What  has  your  brother 
who  rules  in  the  ocean  done  that  he  should  be 
deserted  ?  Even  Atlas,  who  holds  up  the  heavens, 
is  ready  to  faint.  Unless  you  save  us,  all  this  earth 
will  be  chaos  again." 

Then  Zeus,  seeing  that  he  must  quickly  act  or  the 
earth  would  be  destroyed,  stood  upon  the  tower  from 


PERSEPHONE.  275 

which  he  sends  out  the  clouds  and  hurls  the  thunder- 
bolts, and  drove  a  shaft  of  lightning  straight  at  the 
unhappy  Phaethon,  who,  helpless  and  half  dead  with 
fright,  was  clinging  to  the  chariot,  himself  all  scorched 
by  the  intense  heat  he  had  caused.  He  fell  into  the 
River  Po,  where  the  nymphs  cooled  his  burning  frame, 
and  the  horses,  overcome  by  the  lightning,  stopped 
for  a  moment  until  Phoebus  reached  them  and 
resumed   the   reins. 


XLI.     PERSEPHONE.^ 

YOU  remember  that  Pluto,  brother  of  Zeus,  was 
god  of  the  lower  world,  the  kingdom  of 
darkness  known  as  Hades  and  Tartarus. 

Demeter,  the  goddess  of  the  fruitful  fields,  had  a 
beautiful  daughter  named  Persephone.  She  was  still 
but  a  child,  a  lovely  young  girl,  who  used  to  play 
in  the  fields,  her  mother's  realm,  gathering  lilies  and 
violets  and  scattering  them  about  her. 

Now,  Aphrodite  was  very  proud  of  the  fact  that 
she  and  her  son  Eros  ruled  almost  all  of  the  universe, 
that  very  few  of  gods  or  men  escaped  their  control, 
and  she  did  not  like  it  that  Persephone,  though  still 
young,  had  never  loved  any  one  or  been  loved  by  any 
one  except  her  mother. 

One    day    she    saw    Pluto,    the    god    of    Tartarus, 

1  Per-seph'o-ne  (Per-sefo-ne). 


276  A    FOURTH    READER. 


riding  in  his  chariot,  drawn  by  black  horses,  and 
she  said  to  her  son  Eros :  "  Persephone  despises  our 
power ;  let  us  make  her  the  victim  of  this  black 
monarch.  We  will  make  him  fall  in  love  with  her, 
seize  her,  and  carry  her  off  to  Tartarus,  and  there 
marry  her  and  make  her  his  queen.  Do  you  only 
do  your  part,  and  we  shall  rule  below  the  world 
as  well  as  above  it." 

So  Eros  laid  an  arrow  on  his  bow,  and  as  the  black 
monarch  came  riding  by,  shot  it  straight  at  his  heart. 
When  one's  heart  was  pierced  by  Eros's  arrow  he 
did  not  die,  but  merely  fell  in  love  with  the  first 
object  he  saw,  which  in  this  case  was  the  beautiful 
young  Persephone,  who  was  in  the  field  near  by 
gathering   flowers. 

Pluto  immediately  loved  her  violently.  He  stopped 
his  horses  in  the  meadow,  rushed  from  his  chariot, 
and  seized  the  frightened  girl  in  his  arms.  She  was 
almost  overcome  with  fear,  and  struggled  and  cried 
out  for  her  mother,  Demeter;  but  Demeter  was  far 
away,  and  did  not  hear  her  daughter  cry,  nor  know 
that  she  was  helpless  in  the  hands  of  the  powerful 
god ;  so  he  carried  her  to  his  chariot,  while  her 
flowers  fell  out  upon  the  ground  by  the  way. 

The  goddess  of  the  River  Cyane,  who  loved  and 
pitied  the  poor  girl,  tried  to  stop  his  passage ;  but 
he  struck  the  bank  with  his  scepter,  and  the  earth 
opened    and    let    him    through   it   down   to   Tartarus. 


PERSEPHONE.  277 

There  he  married  the  beautiful  Persephone,  and  made 
her  queen  of  all   his  gloomy  realm. 

When  Demeter  came  back  and  missed  her  daughter, 
she  was  wild  with  grief,  and  searched  for  her  all  the 
world  over.  Eos,  when  she  came  to  let  in  the  morn- 
ing, found  her  searching ;  and  Hesperus,  when  he  shut 
out  the  sun  and  led  in  the  stars  for  the  evening,  never 
failed  to  see  and  pity  this  sad,  bereaved  mother,  But 
it  was  all  in  vain.     The  daughter  could  not  be  found. 

One  day  during  her  travels  she  -came  to  the  River 
Cyane.  The  river  goddess  who  had  opposed  the 
passage  of  Pluto  wished  to  tell  Demeter  where  Per- 
sephone had  gone,  but  was  afraid  of  Pluto's  anger  if 
she  did  so.  So  she  took  up  the  girdle  of  Persephone, 
which  the  poor  girl  had  dropped  in  her  flight,  and 
threw  it  at  the  feet  of  the  mother.  Demeter,  seeing 
this,  knew  that  she  must  have  gone  under  the  earth, 
and  began  to  blame  the  land. 

^' No  more,"  said  she,  ^Sshall  you  enjoy  my  favors." 
So  the  seed  failed  to  sprout,  the  cattle  perished,  people 
starved.  Then  Arethusa,  the  nymph  of  a  fountain 
on  that  land,  said  to  Demeter :  "  Goddess,  do  not 
blame  the  land;  it  is  true  your  daughter  passed 
through  it,  but  it  opened  only  at  the  will  of  a 
powerful  god.  I  have  seen  Persephone,  and  can  tell 
you  where  she  is.  She  is  in  Tartarus,  where  she  is 
queen  of  the  great  god  Pluto.  When  I  saw  her,  she 
looked  sad  but  queenly." 


278  A    FOURTH    READER. 

When  Demeter  heard  this  she  was  overcome  with 
grief,  and  hurried  up  to  heaven  to  tell  her  brother. 
King  Zeus,  of  her  troubles,  and  to  ask  his  aid  in 
regaining  her  daughter.  He  promised  to  help  her, 
and  told  Hermes  to  go  down  and  see  if  Pluto  would 
release  his  bride,  that  she  might  go  to  dwell  with 
her  mother. 

Hermes  put  on  his  cap  and  winged  sandals,  and 
quicker  than  a  flash  was  at  the  gates  of  Tartarus. 
Then,  although  the  keeper  tried  to  prevent  him,  he 
rushed  through  and  hastened  to  the  palace  of  Pluto 
and  into  the  presence  of  the  great  god,  where  he 
announced  that  he  was  come  from  Zeus  to  ask  the 
release  of  Persephone. 

Pluto  said  that  he  would  let  her  go  if  she  had  eaten 
nothing  since  she  came  to  his  realm.  Poor  Per- 
sephone !  She  had  eaten  some  seeds  from  a  pome- 
granate that  Pluto  had  given  her.  This  was  enough ; 
she  could  not  go.  But  Pluto  was  not  altogether 
heartless,  though  his  kingdom  was  dark  and  gloomy ; 
and  he  finally  agreed  that  she  should  spend  two 
thirds  of  the  time  on  earth  with  her  mother,  and 
the  remainder  of  the  year  in  Tartarus  with  him. 


THE    BEGINNINGS   OF    THINGS.  279 


XLII.     THE   BEGINNINGS   OF  THINGS. 

THE  Greeks  used  to  wonder,  as  many  people 
have  wondered  since,  how  everything  began, 
—  how  the  gods  themselves  began,  who  were  the 
first  men  and  how  they  came,  and  what  there  was 
before  the  world  was  made.  And  they  had  stories 
to  explain  it  all. 

They  said  that  in  the  beginning  there  was  nothing 
solid,  nothing  had  any  shape.  All  space  was  filled 
with  small  particles,  like  mist  or  dust  floating  about, 
and  all  was  dark.     This  was  called  chaos. 

Then  some  god  separated  the  flying  particles  of 
mist  into  parts,  made  them  solid,  and  so  arranged 
them  that  the  world  appeared.  He  hollowed  out  the 
ocean  bed  and  filled  it  with  water,  built  up  the  moun- 
tains of  rocks,  dug  channels  for  the  rivers  and  set 
the  water  flowing,  laid  out  the  sandy  deserts,  covered 
the  plains  with  rich  earth  and  started  the  flowers 
and  the  grass  and  the  woods  growing.  Then  he 
put  fish  into  the  water,  and  birds  and  beasts  on  the 
land ;   but  still  there  was  no  one  to  control  them. 

Now,  Prometheus^  was  one  of  the  old  race  of 
Titans,  the  same  race  to  which  Cronos,  the  father 
of  Zeus  and  of  all  the  gods,  belonged.  He  and  his 
brother  Epimetheus^  were  greatly  interested   in  this 

^  Pro-me'-theus  (Pro-ine'thuse).  '^  Ep-i-me'-theus  (Ep-i-me'thuse). 


280  A   FOURTH    READER. 


new  earth,  and  saw  that  it  needed  a  ruler.  So 
Prometheus  took  some  earth,  kneaded  it  in  some 
water,  molded  it  into  the  shape  of  one  of  the  gods, 
as  you  mold  objects  from  clay  in  your  school,  stood 
it  upright,  gave  it  life,  and  called  it  man. 

But,  though  man  was  more  beautiful  to  look  upon 
than  any  of  the  other  beings  on  the  earth,  and  was 
wiser,  he  was  very  much  weaker  than  many  of  the 
animals,  and  Prometheus  saw  that  since  his  new 
man  was  to  live  with  these  great  beasts,  he  must 
have  some  gift  greater  than  any  which  they  had,  — 
something  which  he  could  use  in  many  ways. 

So  Prometheus  went  up  to  heaven  and  asked 
Athene,  who  was  the  wise  goddess,  to  help  him 
with  her  advice.  She  told  him  to  take  a  hollow 
reed  and  go  quietly  up  to  the  fiery  chariot  of 
Phoebus,  the  sun  god,  and  to  steal  some  fire  in  his 
reed.  This  he  did,  and  took  the  fire  down  to  earth 
and  gave  it  to  man.  Then  man  was  able  to  care 
for  himself,  to  protect  himself  against  the  cold  and 
the  beasts,  to  cook  his  food,  to  dig  into  the  earth 
and  get  metal,  and,  by  melting  it,  to  mold  it  into 
articles  for  his  use. 

Indeed,  he  had  the  greatest  gift  that  Prometheus 
could  possibly  have  given  him,  and  Zeus  was  very 
angry  when  he  heard  about  it.  He  was  afraid  that 
man  would  some  time  make  him  trouble  if  he  had 
this  great  power  ;  so  he  caught  Prometheus  and  1)ovmd 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF    THINGS. 


281 


Phidias 


ATHENE. 

*  Athene  ivas  the  goddess  0/ wisdom,  a  very  noble  and  stately  goddess.''  (Page  260.) 


282  A    FOURTH    READER. 

him  fast  upon  a  mountain,  where  he  was  sorely  pun- 
ished, until,  many  years  afterwards,  Hercules  released 
him.  But,  though  Zeus  punished  Prometheus,  he  did 
not  try  to  take  away  fire  from  man ;  so  we  still  have 
this  blessing,  which  came  first  directly  from  the  sun. 

James  Russell  Lowell,  in  his  fine  poem,  "  Prome- 
theus," puts  these  words  of  defiance  to  Zeus  in  the 
mouth  of  the  suffering  Titan :  — 

"  I  am  that  Prometheus  who  brought  down 
The  light  to  man,  which  thou,  in  selfish  fear, 
Hadst  to  thyself  usurped,  —  his  by  sole  right, 
For  Man  hath  right  to  all  save  Tyranny,  — 
And  which  shall  free  him  yet  from  thy  frail  throne." 

The  gods  were  greatly  pleased  with  this  new  being, 
man,  upon  the  earth,  so  like  themselves.  But  Zeus 
saw  that  he  must  be  lonely,  and  sent  him  as  a  com- 
panion a  lovely  woman,  whom  he  called  Pandora. 
He  gave  her  a  box  full  of  marriage  gifts  which 
had  been  made  up  for  her  by  all  the  gods,  each 
god  putting  in  something. 

So  there  was  upon  the  new  world  a  man  and  a 
woman,  and  they  were  very  happy;  and  soon  their 
children  grew  up  around  them,  until  the  earth  had 
many  people.  And  there  was  no  one  who  wished  to 
harm  any  one  else.  This  time  was  ever  afterwards 
known  as  the  Golden  Age. 

Thus,  the  Greeks  believed,  the  earth  was  made 
and  filled  with  people. 


THE    QUARREL    OF    THE    GODDESSES.  283 


XLIII.  THE  QUARREL  OF  THE  GODDESSES. 

ONCE  there  was  a  wedding  between  a  celebrated 
king  named  Peleus  and  a  nymph  named 
Thetis.  Peleus  was  a  friend  of  many  of  the  gods, 
and  so  he  decided  to  ask  them  all  to  his  wedding; 
but,  by  some  oversight  in  sending  out  his  invita- 
tions, Eris,  the  goddess  of  strife,  did  not  receive 
one,  and  she  was  very  angry,  and  determined  to 
ruin  the  wedding  feast.  So  she  took  a  golden  apple 
and  wrote  on  it  in  large  letters  these  words:  "For 
the  most  beautiful  goddess,"  and  threw  it  into  their 
midst. 

The  goddesses  all  sprang  for  it,  each  hoping  that 
it  was  for  her.  When  they  saw  the  inscription,  one 
by  one,  all  but  three,  modestly  withdrew  their  claims. 
These  three  were  Athene,  goddess  of  wisdom.  Aphro- 
dite, goddess  of  love,  and  Hera,  queen  of  heaven  arid 
King  Zeus's  wife.  Of  these  not  one  would  yield  to 
the  others,  each  insisting  that  she  was  the  most 
beautiful. 

Finally  they  asked  Zeus  to  decide  who  was  to  have 
the  golden  apple;  but  he  was  too  shrewd  for  that. 
He  knew  that  the  two  defeated  ones  would  not  be 
satisfied;  so  he  said  that  they  were  all  so  beautiful 
that  he  could  not  tell.  "But,"  he  added,  "I  will 
tell  you  who  can   decide  for  you. 


284  A   FOURTH    READER. 


'^  On  Mount  Ida,  near  the  eastern  end  of  the  Great 
Sea,  is  a  young  man  named  Paris,  the  handsomest  of 
all  young  men  on  the  earth.  He  is  the  son  of  King 
Priam  of  Troy.  Before  he  was  born,  a  prophetess 
said  that  he  would  be  a  firebrand  to  burn  up  the 
city;  so  his  father  sent  him,  when  a  baby,  out  into 
the  woods  on  Mount  Ida,  to  perish.  There  a  shep- 
herd found  him,  took  him  to  his  home,  and  raised 
him  as  a  shepherd  boy,  naming  him  Paris.  He  grew 
up  to  be  the  handsomest  man  in  the  world,  a  great 
favorite  with  women,  and  a  judge  of  beauty.  He 
Avill  answer  your  question,  and  tell  you  truly  who 
should  have  the  golden  apple." 

So  these  three  goddesses  wxnt  quickly  in  their 
golden  chariots  to  Mount  Ida,  where  they  found  the 
young  Paris  tending  his  sheep.  As  they  came  to 
him  he  rose  from  the  ground  very  gracefully,  and, 
blushing  a  little,  asked  them  what  they  wanted ;  for 
he  thought  they  were  three  beautiful  women,  and  did 
not  know  that  they  were  goddesses.  They  told  him 
that  they  had  come  to  ask  him  to  decide  which  of 
them  was  the  most  beautiful.  ^'Surely,  ladies,'' 
said  he,  "  I  cannot  decide  that ;  you  are  all  so 
beautiful." 

But  they  insisted  ;  so  he  said  that  he  would  take 
time  to  consider,  and  tell  them  on  the  morrow. 
This  was  what  the  goddesses  wanted,  too ;  so,  after 
he  had  looked   at  them  carefully,    they   went  away, 


THE    QUARREL    OF    THE    GODDESSES.  285 


HERA. 

"Hera,  queen  of  heaven,  and  King  Zeus' s  wifej"     (Page  283.) 


286  A   FOURTH   READER. 

but  Jater  each  came  back,  one  at  a  time,  to  try  to 
persuade  Paris  to  give  her  the  prize.  Hera  promised 
him,  if  he  would  decide  for  her,  all  the  riches  he 
could  wish,  and  that  he  might  be  king  of  Asia. 
Athene  promised  him  great  glory  and  renown  as  a 
soldier.  But  Aphrodite,  who  knew  him  best,  told 
him  if  he  would  decide  for  her  he  should  have  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  for  his  wife. 

It  did  not  take  Paris  long  to  decide,  and  when 
they  came  together  in  the  morning  he  said,  "  Aphro- 
dite is  the  most  beautiful,  and  she  shall  have  the 
golden  apple."  You  may  be  sure  that  the  other 
goddesses  did  not  like  this ;  and  when,  afterwards, 
Paris  found  out  who  his  father  w^as,  and  went  to  live 
with  him  in  the  palace  of  the  king  at  Troy,  the 
angry  goddesses  determined  that,  to  spite  Paris,  Troy 
should  be  destroyed. 


XLIV.     THE  TROJAN   WAR. 

THE  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  was  the 
wife  of  Menelaus,^  king  of  one  of  the  countries 
of  Greece.  Her  name  was  Helen.  Because  of  her 
beauty,  before  her  marriage  all  the  princes  of  Greece 
had  sought  her  hand ;  but  before  she  made  her  choice 
they  solemnly  promised  that   whomsoever  she  might 

1  Men-e-la^-us. 


THE    TROJAN   WAR.  287 

choose,  the  rest  would  always  defend  her  from  all 
harm.  She  then  chose  Menelaus,  and  became  his 
queen. 

Paris,  then  a  prince  in  the  palace  of  his  father  at 
Troy,  was  told  by  Aphrodite  that  the  beautiful  Helen 
was  the  woman  she  had  promised  him,  and  she  ad- 
vised him  to  go  to  the  kingdom  of  Menelaus  and 
take  her,  by  force  if  necessary.  He  went,  and  as 
soon  as  he  saw  Helen  he  wickedly  determined  to 
steal  her  and  carry  her  away  to  Troy. 

Then,  with  the  aid  of  Aphrodite,  he  disguised  himself 
to  look  like  Menelaus,  who  was  away  from  home,  and 
went  to  Helen  and  told  her  that  she  -was  to  go  with 
him  on  a  long  journey  by  ^a.  She  believed  him  to 
be  Menelaus  and  went  with  him  without  question, 
and  he  took  her  across  the  sea  to  Troy,  and  then, 
when  it  was  too  late  for  her  to  go  back,  removed 
his  disguise. 

When  Menelaus  came  home  and  found  that  his 
queen  was  missing,  he  at  once  called  together  all  the 
princes  of  Greece  who  had  promised  to  defend  Helen, 
told  them  what  had  happened,  and  urged  them 
to  fulfill  their  promises.  They  consented,  and  each 
agreed  to  furnish  an  army  to  make  war  on  Troy  and 
bring  back  Helen  to  her  husband. 

In  a  short  time  a  great  army  was  gathered ;  their 
leaders  were  noble  heroes,  brave  in  war  and  wise  in 
council.      Besides   Menelaus,   there   was    his   brother 


288  A    FOURTH    READER. 


Agamemnon,  a  great  and  powerful  king,  who  was 
made  chief  of  all  the  armies  that  went  against  Troy. 
He  was  brave  and  large  and  strong.  The  bravest  of 
the  Greeks  was  Achilles.  He  was  so  great  a  warrior 
that  no  one  could  meet  him  in  single  combat,  but  he 
was  jealous  and  proud.  Then  there  was  Ulysses,  who 
was  not  only  a  brave  warrior  but  was  known  as  the 
wisest  of  the  Greeks;  no  one  was  bright  enough  to 
deceive  him,  and  his  counsel  was  always  sought. 
There  was  also  Nestor,  the  oldest  of  all  the  Greek 
princes,  who  had  been  in  many  wars  before,  and  was 
very  wise.  No  action  was  ever  taken  until  Nestor 
had  been  consulted. 

These  princes  and  many,  many  more  gathered  at 
the  seashore,  with  countless  soldiers  and  ships  enough 
to  carry  them,  all  bound  for  Troy.  After  a  stormy 
voyage  they  reached  the  Trojan  shores,  and  encamped 
about  the  great  city.  Here  for  ten  years  they  carried 
on  the  war,  sometimes  the  Greeks  and  sometimes  the 
Trojans  winning. 

Finally  a  great  misfortune  befell  the  Grecian  army ; 
this  is  all  told  in  a  famous  poem  by  an  old  blind  Greek 
poet  whose  name  was  Homer,  which  some  time  you 
will  read,  I  hope,  in  its  own  beautiful  Greek -language. 

The  dreadful  thing  which  I  mentioned  was  a  ter- 
rible pestilence.  The  Greeks  died  in  great  numbers, 
and  funeral  piles  were  burning  every  day.  For  nine 
days  men  kept  dying,  and  no  one  knew  the  cause. 


THE    TROJAN    WAR.  289 


Then  Achilles  ^  called  together  the  chiefs  and  urged 
them  to  consult  the  gods  and  see  which  one  was 
angry,  and  for  what.  Calchas,^  who  was  the  chief  of 
the  prophets,  told  them  what  the  trouble  was. 

Two  beautiful  maidens,  Chryseis^  and  Briseis/  friends 
of  the  Trojans,  had  been  taken  by  the  Greeks  in 
battle.  In  olden  times,  when  any  one  was  taken 
prisoner  in  war  he  was  either  killed  or  made  a 
slave;  these  two  girls  were  given  as  slaves  to  King 
Agamemnon  and  the  brave  Achilles,  as  prizes  for 
the  heroic  deeds  which  they  had  done. 

Chryse'is  was  the  daughter  of  a  priest  of  Phoebus, 
and  he  had  come  with  much  money  to  buy  back  his 
fair-faced  daughter ;  but  Agamemnon  had  become  very 
fond  of  his  beautiful  slave,  and  would  not  sell  her, 
although  her  father  begged  for  her  with  tears.  He 
went  home  and  prayed  to  Phoebus,  whose  priest  he 
was,  to  help  him. 

Then  Phoebus  was  very,  angry  with  the  Greeks 
because  of  the  insult  to  his  priest  Chryses,  and, 
leaning  over  from  the  heavens,  he  looked  fiercely 
at  the  Grecian  armies.  Then  he  took  his  great 
silver  bow,  and  placing  upon  it  an  arrow,  drew  the 
bow,  and  with  a  loud  twang  sent  the  arrow  down 
among  the  Greeks,  killing  and  wounding  many ;  then 
he  shot  another,  and  another,  and  another,  until  the 

1  A-chil'les  (A-kil'-ez).  s  chry-se'Xs  (Kri-se'is)= 

2  Cal'chas  (Karkas).  4  Bri-se'is. 


290  A    FOURTH    READER. 

Greeks  died  in  scores.  This  was  the  pestilence  which 
wrought  such  havoc  among  them. 

And  Calchas  said,  "  Nor  will  he  withdraw  his 
heavy  hand  from  our  destruction  until  the  black- 
eyed  maid,  freely  and  without  ransom,  is  restored 
to  her  beloved  father." 

At  these  words  of  Calchas  the  prophet,  Agamemnon 
was  very  angry,  and  declared  that  if  he  must  give  up 
his  slave  Chryse'is,  he,  as  king,  would  take  Briseis, 
who  had  been  given  to  Achilles.  At  this  Achilles 
became  angry,  and  declared  that  he  would  not  give 
up  his  slave  ;  but  Agamemnon  insisted,  and,  as  he 
was  king,  could  do  what  he  chose.  Then  Chryseis 
was  sent  back  to  her  father,  and  Phoebus's  anger 
was  removed,  and  no  more  Greeks  died  of  the 
pestilence. 

But  Agamemnon  was  bound  that  he  would  not 
suffer  the  loss  of  his  slave,  and  sent  his  heralds  to 
take  Briseis  from  Achilles's  tent.  This  selfish  act 
nearly  cost  the  Greeks  the  victory ;  for  Achilles  was 
so  angry  that  he  declared  that  the  Trojans  might  con- 
quer, and  he  would  never  lift  his  hand  to  defend  the 
Greeks,  but  that  he  would  go  back  to  the  hills  of  his 
native  Greece.  For  many  days  he  ^at  sulking  in  his 
tent,  while  the  Trojans  drove  the  Greeks  to  their 
ships,  which  they  almost  burned,  and  the  Greeks  were 
in  despair.  Thus  began  a  bitter  quarrel  between  the 
two  great  heroes,  Agamemnon  and  Achilles. 


THE    DEATH    OF    HECTOR.  291 


XLV.      THE    DEATH    OF    HECTOR. 

HECTOR  was  the  great  hero  of  the  Trojans,  as 
Achilles  was  of  the  Greeks.  He  was  the 
son  of  King  Priam,  and  the  brother  of  Paris,  whose 
wicked  deed  caused  the  Trojan  War.  Hector  was 
very  brave  and  strong,  and  led  the  Trojan  army  to 
frequent  victory,  especially  while  Achilles  was  sulk- 
ing in  his  tent  and  refusing  to  fight  because  of  the 
loss  of  Brise'is. 

One  day  Patroclus,^  the  dearest  and  most  intimate 
friend  of  Achilles,  ashamed  of  the  frequent  defeat  of 
the  Greeks,  begged  Achilles  to  lend  him  his  beautiful 
armor,  that  he  might  go  and  lead  his  people  to  vic- 
tory; but  Achilles' s  armor  did  not  give  Achilles's 
strength,  and  rash  Patroclus  was  met  by  Hector  in 
conflict,  and  fell  before  the  Trojan  hero. 

When  Achilles  heard  that  his  friend  Patroclus  was 
slain,  he  was  aroused  from  his  carelessness,  and  de- 
clared that  he  would  again  fight  to  avenge  his  friend. 
So,  at  the  request  of  his  mother,  Hephsestus  forged 
for  him  a  new  suit  of  armor,  the  most  beautiful 
that  was  ever  made,  and  Achilles  again  led  the 
Greeks  against  the  enemies'  walls,  driving  the  Trojans 
within  their  gates,  and  seeking  everywhere  for  Hector, 
that  he  might  slay  him. 

1  Pa-tro'clus. 


892 


A   FOURTH    READER. 


THE    WOODEN    HORSE.  293 


Hector,  within  the  walls  of^  the  city,  saw  the  contin- 
ued defeat  of  his  countrymen,  and  resolved  to  go  out 
and  lead  them  again  to  victory.  His  wife  Androm- 
ache ^  begged  him  not  to  go,  for  she  feared  that 
some  dreadful  thing  would  happen  to  him ;  but  he 
was  no  coward,  and  would  not  be  detained.  He  put 
on  his  armor,  and,  bidding  a  tender  farewell  to  his 
dear  wife,  who  still  clung  to  him,  entreating  him  to 
stay  with  her,  rushed  out  to  battle. 

Before  long  he  met  the  great  Achilles,  raging  and 
fighting  bravely,  but  still  seeking  Hector.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  terrible  battle  between  the  two  greatest  heroes 
of  the  war;  but  the  gods  were  with  Achilles,  and 
helped  him,  so  that  finally  Hector  fell,  pierced  by 
the  spear  of  Achilles.  Thus  was  lost  to  Troy  her 
bravest  defender,  and  beautiful  Andromache  was  left 
to  mourn. 


XLVI.     THE   WOODEN    HORSE. 

THE  Greeks  did  not  give  up  the  siege  and  go 
home,  as  some  wanted  to  do,  but  kept  on  with 
the  war.  There  were  many  battles  between  the  armies, 
and  single  combats  between  heroes  on  the  two  sides, 
and  many  noble  Greek  warriors  were  slain,  and 
some  of  the  bravest  of  the  Trojan  defenders  fell ;  all 

^  An-drom'-a-che  (An-droin'-a-ke). 


294  A    FOURTH    READER. 

of  which  you  will  read  in  Homer's  great  poem,  "  The 
Iliad."     But  still  Troy  did  not  fall. 

The  walls  were  immensely  high  and  strong,  and 
the  great  gates  through  which  the  people  went  in 
and  out  were  shut  or  guarded  by  bands  of  strong 
men.  Finally,  the  Greeks,  having  lost  all  hope  that 
they  should  ever  conquer  Troy  by  war,  decided  to 
try  a  trick.  They  built  a  great  wooden  horse,  higher 
than  the  walls  of  the  city.  This  they  put  on  wheels, 
and  filled  with  soldiers ;  then  they  pretended  that 
they  were  going  back  to  Greece,  and  got  on  board 
their  ships  and  sailed  out  of  sight. 

But  they  sent  word  to  the  Trojans  that  this  great 
horse  was  a  gift  to  the  gods  to  gain  for  them  a  safe 
journey  home,  and  that  if  they  did  not  take  it  and 
place  it  within  the  walls  near  the  temple,  the  gods 
would  be  very  angry  and  would  punish  Troy.  The 
Trojans  were  very  happy  at  seeing  the  Greeks  sail 
away,  being  sure  that  their  long  siege  was  now 
ended,  and  that  they  were  free  to  go  outside  the 
city  and  enjoy  themselves  in  the  fields,  as  they  had 
not  been  able  to  do  for  these  ten  long  years ;  so 
they  broke  down  the  walls,  and  wheeled  in  the  great 
horse.  The  soldiers  left  their  guard,  and  all  took  to 
eating  and  drinking  and  having  a  jolly  time,  as  if 
no  harm  could  happen  to  them.  Foolish  Trojans, 
little  did  they  know  the  Greeks ! 

In  the  middle  of  the  night,  when  the  Trojans  were 


THE    WOODEN    HORSE.  295 

all  fast  asleep,  the  Greeks  sailed  back  in  their  ships 
to  the  Trojan  shore,  and  crept  up  underneath  the 
walls;  then  those  soldiers  who  had  been  shut  up  in 
the  wooden  horse  opened  a  door  in  the  great 
body,  and  came  out ;  they  killed  the  sleeping 
guard,  threw  open  the  gates  of  the  city,  and 
let  in  the  Greek  armies  that  were  waiting 
outside.  Poor  Troy !  This  was  its  last 
night.  The  soldiers  and  the  princes  and  the 
king  himself  were  awakened  by  the  Greeks  in 
their  houses.  Everything  that  could  burn  was 
set  on  fire,  and  all  the  people  were  killed  except  a 
few  who  managed  to  escape  from  the  city  and  to 
flee  to  other  lands. 

This  was  the  great  Trojan  War  which  lasted  ten 
long  years,  and  which  all  grew  out  of  the  foolish 
quarrel  of  the  three  goddesses  over  the  question  as 
to  which  of  them  was  the  most  beautiful.  Would  you 
like  to  know  what  became  of  Helen  and  Paris  ? 

Paris  received  a  wound  in  the  war,  from  which 
he  afterwards  died ;  and  no  one  mourned  him,  because 
he  had  been  the  wicked  cause  of  so  much  trouble. 
Helen,  being  freed  from  her  captivity  by  the  down- 
fall of  Troy,  went  back  to  Greece  with  her  husband 
Menelaus,  where  they  lived  in  happiness  for  many 
years,  and  finally  were  sent  by  the  gods  to  the  happy 
Elysian  Fields,  which  were  situated  on  the  western 
side  of  the  world  near  the  River  Ocean. 


296  A    FOURTH    READER. 


XLVII.     THE   OLYMPIAN   GAMES. 

THE  Greeks  were  very  fond  of  all  sports  which 
could  make  the  body  strong.  They  made  more 
of  them  than  any  other  nation  has  ever  done.  Once 
in  four  years  they  had  a  great  festival,  to  celebrate 
what  they  called  the  Olympian  Games.  Many  thou- 
sands of  people  came  together  upon  a  wide  plain 
to  see  the  contests  of  skill  among  men  and  boys 
from  all  parts  of  Greece.  The  great  games  were 
running  races,  wrestling  matches,  horse  races,  and 
chariot  races.  There  were  games  for  boys  as  well 
as  for  men. 

In  most  of  the  games  the  men  and  boys  wore  little 
or  no  clothing,  and  had  their  bodies  oiled  ;  but  there 
was  one  race  in  which  the  men  wore  the  heavy  armor 
that  they  were  accustomed  to  w^ear  in  war.  The 
prizes  seemed  very  simple ;  they  were  nothing  more 
than  crowns  made  of  leaves  of  the  wild  olive  tree; 
but  to  wear  one  of  these  crowns  was  the  greatest 
honor  that  could  be  given  to  a  Greek.  The  whole 
nation  to  which  the  winner  belonged  thought  itself 
honored,  and  he  went  home  covered  with  glory. 

So  highly  did  the  Greeks  esteem  these  games  that 
they  counted  their  time  from  them.  The  four  years 
between  two  festivals  was  called  an  Olympiad.  We 
reckon  time  from  the  birth  of  Christ ;  when  we  say, 


THE    OLYMPIAN    GAMES.  S97 


Myron. 


DISCOBOLUS,    OR   THE    QUOIT-THROWER. 


298  A    FOURTH    READER. 

this  is  the  year  1897,  we  mean  that  it  is  1897  years 
since  Christ  was  born.  To  show  the  time  in  which 
anything  happened,  the  Greek  would  say,  the  second 
year  of  the  fifth  olympiad,  or  the  third  year  of  the 
tenth  olympiad. 

Because  the  Greeks  gave  so  much  thought  to  con- 
tests of  strength  and  skill,  they  became  the  strongest 
and  most  graceful  and  most  beautifully  formed  people 
of  the  world,  and  that  is  perhaps  one  reason  why 
the  statues  of  their  gods  and  goddesses  were  the 
most  beautiful  statues  that  have  ever  been  made. 


XLVIII.     THE   SPARTANS   AND    LEONIDAS. 

THE  Greeks  did  not  all  belong  to  one  nation. 
Their  land  was  divided  into  a  number  of  parts, 
very  much  as  the  United  States  is  ;  only,  these  parts 
were  not  united  under  one  government  as  our  states 
are.  These  states,  too,  were  often  at  war  with  one 
another.  But  when  a  common  enemy  appeared, 
they  all  fought  together  against  it,  and  made  the 
state  that  was  known  as  the  bravest  and  strongest 
the  leader  for  the  war.  One  of  these  states  was 
called  Sparta.  You  can  find  it  on  your  maps  away 
in  the  southern  part  of  Greece  in  a  peninsula 
called  the  Peloponnesus.^ 

^  Pel-o-pon-ne'aus. 


THE    SPARTANS    AND    LEONIDAS.  299 

The  people  of  Sparta  were  especially  brave  and 
warlike ;  indeed,  they  cared  for  little  else  than  war. 
A  Spartan  boy,  when  he  was  seven  j^ears  old,  was 
taken  away  from  his  mother  and  brought  up  among 
the  men;  for  the  men  did  not  live  with  their  families 
in  Sparta,  but  all  lived  together  in  a  big  hall,  apart 
by  themselves.  All  ate  at  the  same  table,  and  they 
could  only  visit  their  wives  and  children  by  stealing 
away  at  night. 

Here  the  boys  were  given  such  training  as  their 
fathers  thought  would  make  them  brave  soldiers. 
Most  Spartan  boys  had  very  little  clothing  and 
very  little  food ;  if  they  wanted  more  to  eat  than 
was  given  them,  they  could  get  it  only  by  hunting 
wild  animals  or  by  stealing ;  for  they  were  not  pun- 
,  ished  for  stealing  unless  they  were  caught  at  it, 
and  then  they  were  punished,  not  for  stealing,  but 
for  being  caught. 

They  were  taught  to  read,  and  that  was  all  the 
education  from  books  which  they  had.  But  every 
boy  was  trained  to  run,  to  jump,  to  wrestle,  to  fight, 
and  to  hunt.  He  must  not  show  any  feeling.  If 
a  boy  cried  when  he  was  hurt,  he  was  despised  by  all 
the  others,  and  made  very  much  ashamed.  The  boys 
were  often  whipped  terribly,  but  must  not  cry  nor 
wince ;  if  they  did,  they  were  not  thought  worthy 
to  be  Spartans. 

The    training   of    the   girls,    while    not    quite    as 


300  A    FOURTH    READER. 


hard,  was  very  much  like  that  of  the  boys,  except 
that  they  lived  at  home  with  their  mothers.  When 
the  boys  grew  up,  they  became  soldiers.  They  lived 
to  fight.  Even  the  women,  while  they  did  not  go  to 
war  themselves,  thought  it  a  disgrace  if  their  boys 
did  not ;  and  if  their  boys  came  back  defeated,  they 
were  more  sorry  than  if  the3^  had  been  killed. 

The  parting  word  which  the  Spartan  mother  gave 
her  boy  as  he  was  leaving  her  to  go  to  war,  was, 
"  Come  back  ivith  your  shield,  or  on  it,"  which 
meant,  come  back  victorious,  or  do  not  come  alive. 
For  the  Spartans  carried  very  large  and  strong  shields 
in  battle,  and  if  one  lost  his  shield  he  was  forever 
disgraced.  When  a  Spartan  soldier  was  killed,  his 
body  was  laid  upon  his  long  shield  and  so  brought 
home,  where  it  was  looked  upon  as  a  great  honor 
to  have  died  fighting  bravely. 

There  was  once  a  king  of  Sparta  named  Leoni- 
das,^  who  was  very  brave  and  strong  ;  for  no  one 
was  thought  worthy  to  be  king  who  was  not  braver 
than  his  people.  When  Leonidas  had  been  king 
but  a  few  months,  Xerxes,^  king  of  the  Persians,  a 
people  who  lived  away  to  the  east  of  the  Great 
Sea,  came  with  a  vast  army  to  make  war  on  the 
Greeks.  He  had  more  soldiers  than  could  be 
counted,  more  than  all  the  people  to  be  found  in 
Greece,   and  he   had   beside  his  vast   army  a  great 

^  Le-on'i-das.  ^  Xerx'es  (Zerx'ez). 


THE    SPARTANS    AND    LEONIDAS.  301 


fleet  of  ships.  The  Greeks  at  once  made  the  brave 
Spartans  their  leaders,  and  prepared  to  defend  them- 
selves against  Xerxes. 

There  was  just  one  road  by  which  the  enemy 
could  march  into  Greece,  and  this  was  a  narrow 
pass  over  a  mountain  at  a  place  named  Thermopy- 
lae.^ If  the  Greeks  could  defend  that,  they  could 
keep  the  Persians  out ;  and  so  Leonidas  hurried  to 
Thermopylae  with  a  small  band  of  soldiers  to  hold 
the  pass  against  Xerxes  until  the  rest  of  the  Grecian 
army  should  arrive. 

The  pass  was  a  narrow  road  between  high  cliffs, 
where  a  few  could  defend  themselves  against  a  great 
host.  It  was  easier  to  guard  such  a  pass  in  those 
days  than  it  would  be  now.  Now,  the  enemy  would 
simply  place  some  cannon  at  a  distance,  and  shoot 
cannon  balls  right  into  the  midst  of  the  defenders 
until  the  way  w^as  made  clear.  But  then  they  had 
no  guns  nor  cannon  ;  gunpowder  was  not  known, 
and  men  in  war  shot  arrows  from  bows,  as  our 
Indians  used  to  do,  or  fought  hand  to  hand  with 
swords  and  spears.  So,  in  defending  such  a  place 
as  the  pass  at  Thermopylae,  a  few  were  as  good  as 
a  great,  many,  since  only  a  few  could  fight  at  a 
time. 

Here  Leonidas  with  his  little  army  placed  them- 
selves, and  for  many  days  Xerxes,  with   his  count- 

*  Ther-mop'y-lae. 


302  A   FOURTH    READER. 

less  soldiersj  tried  to  drive  them  out,  but  could  not 
do  it.  The  Greeks,  from  behind  their  sheltering 
walls,  would  rush  out  and  kill  great  numbers  of  the 
Persians,  while  but  few  of  their  own  number  were 
hurt.  Xerxes  was  in  despair  and  furiously  angry. 
Here  he  was,  with  the  largest  army  that  had  ever 
been  gathered  in  the  world,  and  yet  he  could 
not  conquer  nor  pass  Leonidas  with  his  little 
troop. 

Finally  a  Greek,  not  one  of  Leonidas's  people,  how- 
ever, turned  traitor,  and  went  to  Xerxes  and  told  him 
of  a  secret  path  by  which  his  army  could  go  around 
the  mountain  and  come  out  in  the  rear  of  the 
Greeks.  This  man's  name  was  Ephialtes.-^  Do  you 
wonder  that  the  Greeks  ever  afterward  hated  his 
name,  just  as  the  American  people  hate  the  name 
of  Benedict  Arnold  ? 

Xerxes  was  very  glad  to  know  of  this  path,  and, 
as  quickly  as  he  could,  sent  a  large  company  of  his 
soldiers,  led  by  Ephialtes,  across  the  mountain. 
When  Leonidas  saw  the  Persians  coming  down  this 
secret  path,  he  knew  that  he  had  been  betrayed, 
and  that  there  was  no  hope.  In  a  short  time  the 
Persians  would  be  both  in  his  front  and  rear,  so 
that  he  could  not  escape.  He  quickly  sent  away  as 
many  of  his  soldiers  as  would  go,  that  their  lives 
might  be  spared,  but  said  that  he  and  his  Spartans 

1  Eph-i-artes  (Ef-i-artez). 


THE    SPARTANS    AND    LEONIDAS. 


303 


would  not  leave ;  they  would  stay  and  die  rather 
than  return  to  Sparta  in  disgrace. 

Some  of  the  other  soldiers  said  that  they,  too, 
would  stay.  So  there  they  were,  this  little  band 
of  brave  men,  surrounded  by  countless  hosts  of 
enemies,  determined  to  defend  their  country  as  long 
as  a  single  one  remained.  Not  a  man  flinched  or 
failed.  Seizing  their  weapons,  they  rushed  into  the 
midst  of  the  Persian  army,  killing  all  they  could  ; 
but  they  could  not  last  long. 

Soon  Leonidas,  their  leader,  fell,  covered  with 
wounds.  The  Persians  rushed  in  to  seize  his  body, 
that  they  might  bear  it  away  to  Xerxes  in  triumph ; 
but  the  Greeks  closed  around  it,  determined  that 
none  should  have  the  body  of  their  beloved  Leoni- 
das so  long  as  a  single  defender  lived.  And  thus 
they  fought  till  every  man  was  slain. 

The  name  Leonidas  means  lion-like.  The  Greeks 
said  surely  he  was  well  named ;  and  they  built,  in 
his  honor,  a  monument  in  the  form  of  a  lion. 


304  A    FOURTH    READER. 


XLIX.     TUBAL   CAIN. 

By  Charles  Mackay. 

LD  Tubal  Cain  was  a 
man  of  might 
In    the    days   when 
earth  was  young ; 
By    the    fierce    red 
light  of  his  furnace  bright 
The  strokes  of  his  hammer  rung ; 
And  he  lifted  high  his  brawny  hand 

On  the  iron  glowing  clear, 
Till  the  sparks  rushed  out  in  scarlet  showers 

As  he  fashioned  the  sword  and  spear. 
And  he  sang,  —  "  Hurrah  for  my  handiwork ! 

Hurrah  for  the  Spear  and  Sword  ! 
Hurrah  for  the  hand  that  shall  wield  them  well? 
For  he  shall  be  king  and  lord  !  " 

To  Tubal  Cain  came  many  a  one, 

As  he  wrought  by  his  roaring  fire, 
And  each  one  prayed  for  a  strong  steel  blade, 

As  the  crown  of  his  desire. 
And  he  made  them  weapons  sharp  and  strong. 

Till  they  shouted  loud  for  glee, 
And  gave  him  gifts  of  pearls  and  gold, 

And  spoils  of  the  forest  free. 


TUBAL    CAIN.  305 


And  they  sang,  —  '^Hurrah  for  Tubal  Cain, 
Who  hath  given  us  strength  anew  ! 

Hurrah  for  the  smith  !  Hurrah  for  the  fire  ! 
And  hurrah  for  the  metal  true  !  " 

But  a  sudden  change  came  o'er  his  heart, 

Ere  the  setting  of  the  sun  ; 
And  Tubal  Cain  was  filled  with  pain 

For  the  evil  he^  had  done. 
He  saw  that  men,  with  rage  and  hate, 

Made  war  upon  their  kind ; 
And  the  land  was  red  with  the  blood  they  shed 

In  their  lust  for  carnage,  blind. 
And  he  said,  —  "  Alas  !  that  ever  I  made. 

Or  that  skill  of  mine  should  plan 
The  spear  and  the  sword  for  men  whose  joy 

Is  to  slay  their  fellowman  !  " 

And  for  many  a  day  old  Tubal  Cain 

Sat  brooding  o'er  his  woe ; 
And  his  hand  forbore  to  smite  the  ore, 

And  his  furnace  smoldered  low. 
But  he  rose  at  last  with  a  cheerful  face, 

And  a  bright  courageous  eye. 
And  bared  his  strong  right  arm  for  work, 

While  the  quick  flames  mounted  high. 
And  he  sang, — ^^  Hurrah  for  my  handiwork!" 

As  the  red  sparks  lit  the  air; 

20— 4  R 


306  A   FOURTH    READER 

Not  alone  for  the  blade  was  the  bright  steel  made^ 
As  he  fashioned  the  First  Plowshare. 

And  men,  taught  wisdom  from  the  Past^ 

In  friendship  joined  their  hands. 
Hung  the  sword  in  the  hall,  the  spear  on  the  wall 

And  plowed  the  willing  lands ; 
And  sang,  —  "  Hurrah  for  Tubal  Cain  ! 

Our  stanch  good  friend  is  he. 
And  for  the  Plowshare  and  the  Plow 

To  him  our  praise  shall  be. 
But  while  Oppression  lifts  its  head, 

Or  a  tyrant  would  be  lord, 
•Though  we  may  thank  him  for  the  Plow, 

We'll  not  forget  the  Sword!" 


L.     ATHENS  AND  THE  ATHENIANS.       * 

\  THENS  was  a  city  in  Greece  even  more  famous 
■^^-  than  Sparta,  and  famous  for  very  different 
reasons.  Although  its  people  were  brave,  they  w^ere 
not  so  warlike  as  the  Spartans,  but  they  were  better 
educated,  and  lived  in  a  much  more  elegant  and 
showy  way. 

The  Spartans  despised  money,  cared  very  little  for 
their  homes,  thought  nothing  of  comfort  or  refinement, 
and  were  anxious  only  to  be  good  soldiers.     They  did 


ATHENS  AND  THE  ATHENIANS. 


307 


308 


A    FOURTH    READER. 


not  have  fine  buildings,  books,  or  pictures,  or  any  of 
those  beautiful  things  that  most  people  value  and 
work  for. 

The  Athenians  were  the  best  educated  and  the 
most  refined  people  that  had  ever  lived,  up  to  their 
time.  Their  poets  were  the  greatest  poets  of  the 
world,  and  no  modern  country  has  such  paintings, 
statues,  or  buildings  as  were  found  in  the  little  city 
of  Athens. 

In  the  midst  of  the  city  was  a  hill  called  the 
Acropolis,  which  was  covered  with  beautiful  temples. 


In  these  were  found  wonderful  statues,  some  made  of 
marble  and  some  of  ivory  and  gold,  and  no  sculptors 
who  have  lived  since  have  been  able  to  make  statues 
so  fine.  Many  of  the  most  beautiful  buildings  of  to- 
day are  merely  copies  of  the  old  Greek  temples. 

The  Spartans,  you  remember,  were  trained  to  be 
strong  by  running  races,  wrestling,  and  other  exercises 
in  the  gymnasium.  Besides  these,  they  were  taught  to 
read,  but  that  was  all. 


DEMOSTHENES.  309 


The  Athenians  trained  the  body,  but  they  also 
trained  the  mind.  The  education  of  an  Athenian  boy 
was  divided  into  two  parts,  gymnastics  and  music ;  but 
music  meant  much  more  than  it  does  now.  Among 
the  gods  whom  the  Athenians  worshiped  were  nine 
goddesses  known  as  the  Muses,  who  had  special  care 
of  the  arts,  such  as  music,  poetry,  dancing,  and  learn- 
ing in  general. 

The  word  music  means  anything  sacred  to  the 
Muses,  and  an  Athenian  boy  who  was  taught  music, 
as  they  called  it,  might  learn  to  sing,  to  write  poetry, 
to  speak  in  public,  to  dance,  and  to  tell  the  stars  by 
name.  When  he  grew  up,  he  did  not  despise  money, 
but  desired  it  for  the  good  things  it  would  buy. 


LI.     DEMOSTHENES. 

THERE  was  a  boy  in  Athens  w^ho  wanted  to  be 
an  orator  ;  that  is,  he  wanted  to  be  able  to 
speak  to  large  crowds  of  people  so  that  they  would 
do  what  he  said.  His  father,  who  had  been  a  great 
general  of  the  armies  of  Athens,  died  when  the  boy 
was  very  young,  and  left  his  money  in  care  of  some 
bad  men,  who  spent  it. 

When  Demosthenes,  for  that  was  the  boy's  name, 
was  old  enough  to  know  this,  he  asked  them  to  give 
him  his  money.     They  could  not  do  it,  because  they 


310  A   FOURTH    READER. 

had  spent  it ;  so  the  boy  went  before  the  judges  and 
told  them  his  story.  He  did  this  so  well  that  the 
judges  punished  the  wicked  men,  and  made  them 
pay  a  fine. 

Demosthenes  had  done  so  well  in  this,  his  first 
attempt,  that  he  thought  he  was  already  an  orator  and 
could  speak  before  the  people;  and  he  tried  it,  but 
failed.  Then  he  knew  he  had  much  to  do  before  he 
could  be  an  orator.  Indeed,  he  did  have  much  to  do  : 
for  he  had  a  very  weak  voice,  he  could  not  pronounce 
words  plainly,  he  could  not  speak  the  letter  R  at  all, 
and  he  stammered.  Was  not  that  enough  to  discour- 
age most  boys?  But  Demosthenes  was  not  discour- 
aged ;  he  went  to  work  to  correct  his  faults. 

Many  stories  are  told  of  the  things  he  did.  It  is 
said  that  he  put  pebbles  in  his  mouth,  and  talked 
with  them  there  until  he  could  speak  plainly ;  that 
he  went  to  the  seaside  w^hen  the  waves  were  rolling 
in  with  a  loud  roaring,  and  spoke  until  he  could  be 
heard  above  their  noise ;  that  he  used  to  speak 
aloud  while  running  up-hill,  to  strengthen  his  lungs. 
So  hard  did  he  work,  and  so  well  did  he  succeed, 
that  in  time  he  became  the  greatest  orator  of 
Greece,  and,  as  many  think,  the  greatest  that  ever 
lived. 

At  this  time  the  Greeks  had  a  very  powerful 
enemy,  who  was  extremely  cunning  as  well.  This 
enemy  was  Philip  The  Great,  — a  powerful  kincr  who 


DEMOSTHENES. 


311 


DEMOSTHENES. 


312  A    FOURTH    READER. 

lived  in  Macedonia,  a  country  north  of  Greece.  He 
tried  both  by  fighting  and  trickery  to  conquer  Greece ; 
but  Demosthenes,  by  his  wonderful  eloquence,  for 
many  j^ears  stirred  up  the  Athenians  so  that  they 
were  able  to  resist  Philip  and  their  other  enemies. 


LII.     THE   LEGEND   OF   SAFNT  CHRISTOPHER. 

By   Helen  Hunt  Jackson. 

FOR  many  a  year  Saint  Christopher 
Served  God  in  many  a  land  ; 
And  master  painters  drew  his  face, 

With  loving  heart  and  hand, 
On  altar  fronts  and  churches'  walls; 

And  peasants  used  to  say, — 

To  look  on  good  Saint  Christopher 

Brought  luck  for  all  the  day. 

For  many  a  year,  in  lowly  hut, 

The  giant  dwelt  content 
Upon  the  bank,  and  back  and  forth 

Across  the  stream  he  went; 
And  on  his  giant  shoulders  bore 

All  travelers  who  came. 
By  night,  by  day,  or  rich  or  poor, 

All  in  King  Jesus'  name. 


THE   LEGEND    OF   SAINT   CHRISTOPHER  313 

But  much  he  doubted  if  the  King 

His  work  would  note  or  know, 
And  often  with  a  weary  heart 

He  waded  to  and  fro. 
One  night,  as  wrapped  in  sleep  he  lay^ 

He  sudden  heard  a  call, — 
"0  Christopher,  come,  carry  me  !  " 

He  sprang,  looked  out,  but  all 

Was  dark  and  silent  on  the  shore. 

^^It  must  be  that  I  dreamed,"- 
He  said,  and  laid  him  down  again ; 

But  instantly  there  seemed 
Again  the  feeble,  distant  cry,  — 

"  Oh,  come  and  carry  me  !  " 
Again  he  sprang  and  looked ;   again 

No  living  thing  could  see. 

The  third  time  came  the  plaintive  voice, 

Like  infant's,  soft  and  weak ; 
With  lantern  strode  the  giant  forth, 

More  carefully  to  seek. 
Down  on  the  bank  a  little  child 

He  found,  —  a  piteous  sight, — 
Who,  weeping,  earnestly  implored 

To  cross  that  very  night. 

With  gruff  good  will  he  picked  him  up, 
And  on  his  neck  to  ride 


314  A    FOURTH    READER. 

He  tossed  him,  as  men  play  with  babes^ 
And  plunged  into  the  tide. 

But  as  the  water  closed  around 
His  knees,  the  infant's  weight 

Grew  heavier  and  heavier, 
Until  it  was  so  great 

The  giant  scarce  could  stand  upright, 

His  staff  shook  in  his  hand, 
His  mighty  knees  bent  under  him. 

He  barely  reached  the  land. 
And,  staggering,  set  the  infant  down, 

And  turned  to  scan  his  face  ; 
When,  lo !    he  saw  a  halo  bright 

Which  lit  up  all  the  place. 

Then  Christopher  fell  down,  afraid 

At  marvel  of  the  thing, 
And  dreamed  not  that  it  was  the  face 

Of  Jesus  Christ,  his  King. 
Until  the  infant  spoke,  and  said :         - 

"  0  Christopher,  behold  ! 
I  am  the  Lord  whom  thou  hast  served. 

Rise  up,  be  glad  and  bold ! 

^^For  I  have  seen,  and  noted  well, 

Thy  works  of  charity; 
And  that  thou  art  my  servant  good 

A  token  thou  shalt  see. 


THE   LEGEND   OF   SAINT   CHRISTOPHER.  315 

Plant  firmly  here  upon  this  bank 

Thy  stalwart  staff  of  pine, 
And  it  shall  blossom  and  bear  fruit, 

This  very  hour,  in  sign." 

Then,  vanishing,  the  infant  smiled. 

The  giant,  left  alone. 
Saw  on  the  bank,  with  luscious  dates, 

His  stout  pine  staff  bent  down. 

I  think  the  lesson  is  as  good 

To-day  as  it  was  then  — 
As  good  to  us  called  Christians 

As  to  the  heathen  men,  — 
The  lesson  of  Saint  Christopher, 

Who  spent  his  strength  for  others, 
And  saved  his  soul  by  working  hard 

To  help  and  save  his  brothers! 


LEXICON. 


Ac'ci-dent,  chance ;  something  not  in- 
tended. 

Ac-com'plished,  done ;  performed. 

Ac'cu-ra-cy,  exactness ;  precision. 

Ae'rie  (e'ry),  the  high  nest  of  a  bird; 
an  eyrie. 

Ag-i-ta'tion,  excitement  of  feeling. 

Al-lied',  joined  to. 

Allies,  friends;  associates. 

Al-lur'ing,  attraction. 

A-mazed',  filled  with  wonder. 

Am'ber,  yellow. 

Ambush,  a  place  of  concealment. 

Ampt'man,  chief  officer  of  a  province. 

An'ces-tors,  forefathers. 

Ap-pren'ti-ces,  persons  bound  by  law 
to  do  service. 

Ar'chi-tec'tur-al,  pertaining  to  mode 
of  building. 

Ar'ti-sans,  workmen. 

As-sured',  promised;  made  sure.' 

As-ton'ish-ment,  wonder ;  surprise. 

A-sun'der,  apart. 

At-tract'ive,  pleasant  to  look  at. 

Av'a-lanche,  a  large  body  of  sliding 
snow. 

Av'a-rice,  greed. 

A-void',  escape;  get  rid  of. 

Baffle,  outwit ;  escape. 

Bairn,  child. 

Bas'll,  a  species  of  mountain  mint. 

Bea'dle  (bee'del),  an  English  parish 
officer. 

Beck,  brook. 

Bed'rid-den,  kept  to  one's  bed  by  sick- 
ness or  age._ 

Be-guiled'  (giled),  led  astray. 

Ben'e-flt,  profit. 

Be-wil'dered,  greatly  perplexed. 

Be-wirder-ing",  blinding;  confusing. 

Bick'er-ing,  wrangling ;  disputing. 

Bides,  stays ;  lives. 

Blithe,  joyous. 

Bo'gies,  bad  spirits ;  hobgoblins. 

Cad'dis,  a  kind  of  fly  that  is  hatched 
in  the  water. 


Callous,  hard ;  without  feeling. 

Can'o-py,  an  ornamental  covering. 

Can'ty,  talkative;  sprightly. 

Ca'per-er,  a  kind  of  insect. 

Case'ment,  window. 

Cen'tu-ries,  hundreds  of  years. 

Chaffing,  making  fun  of. 

Chanced,  happened. 

Chat'ter-lng,  talking  rapidly  and  nois- 
ily. \ 

Chintz,  cotton  cloth. 

Chiv'al-rous,  knightly;  polite. 

Clam'ber,  to  climb  or  cross  with  diffi- 
culty. 

Clarn'or-ing",  calling  noisily. 

Clar'1-on,  a  kind  of  horn. 

Cleave,  cut  apart. 

Clem'a-tis,  a  climbing  plant. 

Clemmed,  starved. 

Clev'er,  bright. 

Col'lier-ies  (col'yer-iz),  coal  mines. 

Com-pas'sion,  pity. 

Com'plai-sant'  (com'pla-zanf),  cour- 
teous ;  obliging. 

Com'plex,  difficult  to  make;  compli- 
cated. 

Com'pli-ments,  flattering  speeches. 

Con'jur-er,  one  who  practices  magic 
arts. 

Con'scious  (shus),  aware;  know- 
ing. 

Con'se-cra-ted,  sacred;  blessed. 

Con'se-quent-ly,  therefore. 

Con-serv'a-to-ry,  greenhouse. 

Con-so-la'tion,  comfort. 

Con-trived',  managed. 

Con-vinced',  persuaded,  made  to  be- 
lieve. 

Copse,  a  thick  wood  of  small 
growth. 

Coun'cil,  company  of  advisers. 

Coun'sel-or,  adviser. 

Cours'ers,  horses,  —  here  reindeer, 

Cour'te-ous,  polite. 

Cov'er,  thicket. 

Cowed,  frightened. 

Cowl,  a  kind  of  hood. 

Crooned,  sang  in  a  low  tone. 


(316) 


1.EXICON. 


317 


Dank,  damp. 

De-coy',  entrap. 

De-form'i-ty,    unnatural     shape     or 

form. 
De-li'cious  (shus),  good  to  eat. 
De-lir'i-um,  wild  fancies. 
De-ter'mined,  made  up  his  mind. 
Dim'i-ty,  a  kind  of  cloth. 
Din'gle,  a  small  dell. 
Dis'ci-pline,  training. 
Dis-cour'te-ous,  impolite. 
Di-vert'ed,  turned  aside. 
Dole'ful-ly,  sadly. 
Dor'set-shire,  a  county  in  the  south  of 

England. 
Drought  (drowt),  thirst. 
Duffle,  a  kind  of  coarse  woolen  cloth. 

Ec'sta-sy,  delight. 

Ed'dy-ing',  whirling. 

Eft,  a  small  lizard. 

El'e-nient,  the  place  naturally  suited 

for  any  creature's  existence. 
Em'er-ald,  green. 
En-no'bled,  raised  to  a  high  rank. 
En-treat'ed,  prayed  to. 
Es-chew'ing',  avoiding. 
E'ton,  a  noted  school  for  boys. 
Ev-er-more',  all  the  time. 
Ex-cel'sior,  still  higher. 
Ex-pen'sive,  dear;  costly. 
Ex-ul-ta'tion,  great  joy. 

Fac'ul-tles,  powers ;  gifts  of  mind. 

Fal'chion,  a  broad-bladed  sword. 

Fa'vor-ite,  best  liked. 

Feat,  deed. 

Fell,  stony  hill. 

Fera'i-nine,  pertaining  to  a  woman. 

Fen'der,  a  frame  for  keeping  the  fire 

from  falling  on  the  floor. 
Fes'tal,  pertaining  to  a  feast. 
Fet'ter,  bind. 
Fi-del'i-ty,  faithfulness. 
Fi'nal-ly,  at  last. 
Flail,  an  instrument  for  beating  out 

grain. 
Flecks,  spots. 
Fo'li-age,  leaves. 

For-bear',  refrain;  keep  from  doing. 
Foun'dered,  made  sick  and  lame,  as 

a  horse. 
Fur'rowed,  marked    in   furrows,   or 

trenches,  by  the  plow. 

Gabies  (beez),  silly  people. 
Gam'bol,  sport. 

Gar'ners,  storehouses,  or  granaries. 
Gen'er-os'i-ty,  liberality  in  giving. 
Gen'ial,  pleasant. 


Ge'nie  (je'ne),  a  spirit  which  exercises 

a  supernatural  influence  over  man. 
Gla'cier,  a  river  of  ice. 
Glade,  an  open  space  in  a  forest. 
Glit'ter-ing,  shining. 
Glut'ton-ous,  greedy. 
Goody,  old  woman. 
Grat'i-tude,  thankfulness. 
Green'sward,  grassy  lawn  or  field. 
Grig,  a  cricket. 

Hab'i-tude,  habits. 

Hack,  horsp. 

Hap,  put,  to  take  care  of. 

Har'le-quin,  clown ;  merry-maker. 

Heath'er  (heth'er),  a  plant  common  in 

Great  Britain. 
Heifer  (hef'er),  a  young  cow. 
Herbage,  pasture;  grass. 
Hes-per'i-des,   a    fabled    garden    in 

Africa  which  produced  golden  apples. 
Hith'er-to,  up  to  this  time. 
Hoar'y,  gray  with  age. 
Ho-ri'zon,  extent  of  vision  (literally, 

the  edge  of  the  sky). 

Im-ag'lne,  think  of. 

Im-pen'e-tra-ble,  that  cannot  be  en- 
tered. 

In'cense,  fragrant  smoke  from  a  sacred 
fire. 

In-cred'i-bly,  beyond  belief. 

In-dig'nant,  angry  with  cause. 

In'fl-nite,  endless. 

In-sig-nif  i-cant,  small ;  worthless. 

In-spec'tion  (shun),  examination; 
looking  over. 

In'stant-ly,  at  once. 

In-vis'i-ble,  that  cannot  be  seen. 

Jag'ged,  rough ;  notched. 
Jaun'ty,  showy. 
Jeer'ing,  mocking;  taunting. 
Joc'und,  jolly ;  gay. 

Kins'man,  relative. 

Knell,  the  stroke  of  a  bell  on  some  sad 

occasion. 
Knolls,  small  hills. 

Lar'um,  an  alarm;  a  noise  to  warn. 

Law'yers,. briers,  brambles. 

League  (leeg),  agreement  to  act  to- 
gether. 

Light'some,  bright. 

Lime'kiln,  a  sort  of  oven  where  lime- 
stone is  burned. 

Listless,  not  active ;  uninterested. 

Lith'est,  most  active;  limberest. 

Lu'mi-nous,  shining. 


318 


LEXICON. 


Lure,  attraction. 
Lusty,  large ;  strong. 

Mag'ic-al,  having  a  secret,  or  charmed, 
meaning. 

Ma-gi'cian  (shun),  one  who  works 
wonders. 

Main,  the  ocean. 

Man'i-to,  a  spirit  held  in  religious  awe 
by  the  Indians. 

Mar'gin,  edge. 

Mart,  a  busy  commercial  place. 

Mar'tin-mas,  the  feast  of  St.  Martin. 

Mat'ins,  morning  prayers. 

Maze,  a  tangled  mass. 

Min'i-a-ture,  very  small. 

Mold,  soil ;  earth. 

Mo-lests',  harms;  troubles. 

Mon'arch,  ruler;  king. 

Moor,  a  tract  of  poor  land  covered  with 
heather. 

Mosques  (mosks),  temples. 

Murk'y,  gloomy. 

Mus'lng,  thinking. 

My s-te'ri-ous,  unknown ;  full  of  mys- 
tery. 

Mys'tic,  having  hidden  meaning. 

Niche  (nitch),  a  little  hollow  in  a  wall. 
Nymph  (niraf),  a  goddess  of  tlie  woods 
and  waters. 

Ob'sta-cle,  something  in  the  way. 

Ob'sti-nate,  unwilling  to  give  up. 

Op-pressed',  overcome ;  worn  out. 

Or'ches-tra  (or'kes-),  a  band  of  musi- 
cians. 

Or'gans,  parts  or  members  of  the  body. 

Ou'zel  (oozl),  a  bird  of  the  thrush 
family. 

Pal'lid,  pale. 

Par'a-chute,  a  contrivance  like  an  um- 
brella, for  descending  from  a  balloon. 

Pas'sion,  strong  feeling. 

Pa'thos,  sadness ;  tender  feeling. 

Peas'ant,  a  countryman  or  rustic. 

Pet'ri-fled,  turned  into  stone. 

Phil'o-mel,  the  nightingale. 

Pied,  spotted. 

Piert  (peert),  a  Scotch  word  meaning 
**  active." 

Plaint'ive,  pitiful ;  mournful. 

Plau'dits,  applause. 

Pli'ant,  easily  bent ;  yielding. 

Plied,  struck. 

Poached,  stole  game  from  a  preserve. 

Poised,  held  steadily;  balanced. 

Pom-er-a'ni-a,  a  province  of  Prussia. 

Ponder-ing",  thinking. 


Pon'der-ous,  very  heavy. 
Por'tals,  gates. 
Por'ter,  gatekeeper. 
Pot'tage,  food  cooked  in  a  pot. 
Poults  (polts),  chicks. 
Pre-ferred',  liked  better. 
Pres'ent-ly,  soon. 
Pre-serve'  (zerv),  keep. 
Pre-sum'ing,  taking  the  liberty. 
Pro-ces'sion  (shun),  company  march- 
ing in  order. 
Pro-mot'ed,  advanced  in  station. 
Pros'per,  do  well;  be  happy. 

Quailed,  shrank  away. 
Quaint,  queer. 

Qual'i-ty,  rich  or  noble  people. 
Queiring-,  becoming  still. 
Quest,  search. 

Quoits,  a  game  played  with  flat  iron 
rings. 

Ra'di-ant,  shining ;  beautiful. 

Ral'ment  (ra'ment),  clothes. 

Ran'dom,  chance. 

Range,  wander. 

Re-ap-peared',  came  in  sight  again. 

Re-flect'ed,  thrown  back  again,  as 
from  a  mirror. 

Re-gale',  refresh ;  feast. 

Re-it'er-a-ted,  repeated. 

Re-pub'li-can,  of  common  rank. 

Re-quired',  demanded;  insisted  upon. 

Res'o-lute,  bold. 

Re-solved',  determined. 

Re-spon-si-bll'i-ty,  trust;  duty. 

Re-stored',  brought  back  to  conscious- 
ness; made  well  again. 

Re-vered',  greatly  respected. 

Rho-do-den'dron,  a  rose  tree. 

Rift'ed,  parted. 

Ro'se-ate,  rose-colored. 

Rout,  noise ;  tumult. 

Sav'age,  a  wild,  ignorant  person. 
Sax'i-frage,  a  plant  that  grows  in  the 

crevices  of  rocks. 
Scep'ter,  a  stai¥  borne  by  a  ruler  as  an 

emblem  of  power. 
Se-date',  serious. 
Sedg'es,  marshes  covered  with  water 

plants. 
Shammed,  pretended. 
Shin'gle   (shing'gl),  pebbles  worn  by 

water. 
Sim'mer-ing",  heated. 
Slot,  track. 

So'journ-ers,  dwellers. 
Sol'i-ta-ry,  single. 


LEXICON. 


319 


Sor'cer-er,  a  magician. 

Spec'tral,  ghostly. 

Squires  and    pages,  attendants   on 

great  persons. 
Sti'fling,  choking ;  foul. 
Stoat,  an  ermine. 
Strew,  scatter. 

Stud'ded,  thickly  set,  as  with  jewels. 
Sub-mis 'sion,  giving  away;  yielding. 
Sus-pi'cion,  fear  of  evil. 
Swad'dled,  wrapped  up. 
Swain,  a  young  man,  —  here  used  of  a 

young  animal. 
Sward,  grassy  surface. 
Sylph,  a  slender,  fairy-like  woman. 

Taintless,  pure. 

Tal'ons,  claws. 

Tan'ta-li-zes,  torments. 

Tar'nished,  soiled. 

Teem'ing,  fruitful. 

Ten'ant,  one  who  lives  in. 

Ter'ra-ces,  banks  or  slopes  raised  one 

above  the  other. 
Ter'ri-fied,  frightened. 
Tes'ti-fled,  bore  witness. 
Throng",  crowd. 

Thyme  (time),  a  fragrant  plant. 
Tilth,  tilled  ground. 


Tol'er-a-bly,  quite. 

Trans-par'ent,  clear ;  that  can  be  seen 

through. 
Trans'ports,  delights. 
Trem'u-lous,  trembling. 
Tri-um'phant,  rejoicing  in  victory. 

Un-err'ing,  true ;  without  fault. 
Un-meet',  uniBt. 
Up-rear'ing,  a  lifting  up. 

Vel-vet-een',  a  kind  of  velvety  cloth. 
Ver'dur-ous,  green ;  leafy. 
Ves'pers,  evening  prayers. 
Vis'or,  front  piece  of  a  cap  or  helmet. 
Viz'ier  (yer),  a  high  court  officer  in 
the  Orient. 

Wain,  wagon. 

Wand,  a  small  rod. 

Wan'ton,  free;  sportive. 

Wear  (wer),  dam. 

Weird  (weerd),  strange. 

Whins,  thorny  shrubs. 

Wig'wam,  an  Indian  tent   made  of 

bark. 
Wist'ful,  wishing ;  longing. 

Yearn'ing, longing;  lovingly  desiring. 


W  36610 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 

nil  mil 

CDM3tlDSaL 

M187503      C  /  r  5 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


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